Shadow of a Doubt
by Toffeecrisp
Summary: Molly Dawes isn't enjoying her summer job. She's bored, the pay is poor and she longs for a bit of excitement and adventure. However, everything starts to change when she meets Captain James and his family and receives a surprising invitation. A modern Our Girl story with some assistance from Jane Austen.
1. Chapter 1

**_Hi, I may have officially lost my marbles but after my recent foray into the world of Pride & Prejudice I couldn't resist a little modern Our Girl/Jane Austen crossover story just for fun although I feel I should apologise in the same breath to both Tony Grounds and Miss Austen. If you happen to recognise a few characters and some of the plot of a well-known novel – coughs…Northanger Abbey – then you'd be right. As the story begins young, impoverished Molly Dawes is working for a rather well-heeled couple and dreaming of a much more exciting life…_**

 **Chapter One**

Elbow deep in a Belfast sink full of tepid, greasy water, Molly Dawes wondered what had ever possessed her to take this job.

When her Dad, Dave, had come home from the pub with the rather excited and slightly inebriated suggestion that she get round to see his mate, Charlie, who knew a bloke who knew another bloke who was hiring staff for rich clients who needed seasonal help, she had been sceptical. She had actually wondered if it was just a front for some dodgy activity that involved working in sleazy adult only bars or possibly worse but she was nonetheless curious. Charlie's contact turned out to be a Mike of 'Forefront Staff' and to her great surprise the offer had turned out to be genuine. He had made it sound as if she would be getting a free holiday in a fabulous location in exchange for a bit of light domestic work, accommodation and generous pocket money. Longing for a bit of adventure and wondering if she would ever see more than the bright lights of Upton Park, Molly had decided to take a chance and registered all her details. When Mike had finally phoned her a few weeks later to tell her that she had been hired for the summer she couldn't help but be excited by the prospect of travelling and spending the summer somewhere hot and exotic. Her mind was racing ahead and she realised with a start that she'd need to get her passport sorted out pretty quickly. However, when, with a forced note of enthusiasm in his voice, Mike had asked her what she thought of a spending three months in sunny Bath she hadn't been slow in giving her opinion, "It sounds a bit shit."

It seemed as if Mike wasn't particularly surprised by Molly's response. The truth, which he was keeping from her, was that this assignment had been turned down by everyone else on his list, all of whom had been looking for something better and she was the last person he had called having impressed him the least of all the candidates he had interviewed. Even though he felt he was scraping the bottom of the barrel he had tried to buoy her up by saying what a wonderful couple the Allens were, being a kind, elderly couple who treated their staff almost as members of the family and what lovely comments he'd had from previous employees, none of whom it seemed wished to repeat the experience of working for them again. Molly had sensed this was not going to be her dream job. An elderly couple didn't sound as if they were going to be hosting many wild parties or have many interesting social engagements although on the other hand perhaps the workload would be pretty light. She had almost told Mike to forget it but looking around her, seeing the piles of ironing all over the lounge, the toys of her younger brothers and sisters littering the floor, hearing her mum and dad rowing upstairs and thinking of the cramped bedroom she shared with Bella, she wondered if it could really be any worse than this. As it stood, her summer was likely to consist of nothing more exciting than a day trip to Margate, which was well past its sell by date in her book. She had taken a big breath and resigned to her fate said, "OK. When do I start?"

Four weeks later Molly was wondering how she could have underestimated the Allens so much. Apart from being a childless couple in their mid-sixties with more than a touch of grey in their hair, they were neither quiet nor retiring, having frequent visitors and at least one dinner party a week. Thankfully, fancy cooking was not part of Molly's remit as her culinary skills were limited to the odd bacon sandwich or beans on toast. The Allens always employed caterers for their evening soirees complete with smartly uniformed waiters and waitresses who swanned in and out of the kitchen with great efficiency holding silver serving plates aloft to receive freshly cooked delicacies from hired chefs. Molly had only one part to play in the proceedings; doing the washing up.

The water in the sink was growing colder and scum had formed. The main courses and desserts had been served upstairs over an hour ago and the guests had moved onto coffee but the pile of plates, serving dishes, pots and pans still seemed to be growing. Molly pulled out the plug intending to use some fresh hot water and stood up stretching her back. It ached from leaning over the sink. She sighed and cursed under her breath, "Fuck me, this is boring."

"You're right there."

A slim, blonde-haired girl of about her own age was standing in the open kitchen doorway watching her through narrowed cat-like eyes, her head tilted on one side. Her black skirt appeared to be just a little bit tighter than anyone else's showing off her model-like figure. A waft of cigarette smoke blew in Molly's direction and she could see that the girl had a cigarette in the hand she was holding just a fraction outside the door. They weren't supposed to smoke whilst working but this girl didn't seem to care. She gestured to the cigarette, "Would you like one?"

Molly shook her head. "No, thanks."

"How long have you been working here?" the girl asked.

"About four weeks. I haven't seen you here before. I mean, not on the dinner party nights," Molly replied.

The girl shrugged. "No, I don't usually do the house party stuff, but Laura was sick, so they asked me to cover."

"What do you normally do, then?" Molly asked.

"Big functions. You know, dinner and dances, cocktail parties, business lunches, that sort of thing. It's more fun than this. I don't you how you put up with it. Do they pay well?"

Molly pulled a face. The money wasn't particularly good. Mike's description of pocket money summed it up. It wouldn't stretch much further than the odd night at the cinema or a few magazines and a bar of chocolate. She had her own room way up on the top floor of the five storey town house which was comfortable but not particularly special and she had plenty to eat but her working day could stretch from seven in the morning until after midnight on days like this and much of it was pretty dreary. The Allens were not unkind. Mrs Allen was very fashion conscious and spent a lot of time shopping, lunching with friends or taking the waters and treatments at the Thermae Spa. She had once taken Molly for a dip in the roof top pool there which had been interesting although not very exciting as the emphasis was upon relaxation rather than exercise. After wallowing in the warm water for about twenty minutes, Molly had been thoroughly bored from the lack of activity and the absence of any male talent or indeed any male below the age of fifty. Mrs Allen, however, was thoroughly engaged in conversation with her friends and not the least bit bothered about how long they stayed as it appeared to be simply part of her regular round of social engagements. Mr Allen preferred his social life to be conducted from his own living room hence the frequent visitors and dinner parties. He humoured his wife and encouraged her to go out as much as she wished preferring to put his feet up during the day and reserve his energies for the evening which usually consisted of food, conversation, a few drams of whisky and late night poker games.

Molly thought about the past four weeks and looking at the girl said honestly, "They don't pay much."

The girl looked her up and down. "You know you ought to sign up with Prestige and do some big functions. They're always looking for staff and you could earn yourself some extra money. It's a lot more fun."

Molly looked unsure. "I don't know. I'm supposed to do this until September."

"Well, you get evenings or days off don't you? Why don't you do a bit extra work when you're free?" the girl insisted. "Look, give Andy in the Prestige office a ring tomorrow and tell them you were speaking to me." She threw her cigarette outside the door and reaching one elegant long leg in its direction stubbed it out with her toe. Turning back to Molly she added, "By the way, I'm Izzy, Izzy Thorpe."

x-x-x-x

The Assembly Rooms were packed with elegantly dressed guests. A string quartet in The Great Octagon was playing a selection of eighteenth century classics and drinks were being offered to new arrivals. Molly stood just inside the entrance to the Ballroom holding a tray of drinks and repeating the same question over and over, "Would you like a glass of champagne Sir?" Her arms ached, her feet hurt in shoes that were just a bit too tight and she felt awkward and out of place.

The fact that she was standing here now was all a matter of chance. A couple of days after the dinner party it had been her afternoon off and she was doing her usual round of window shopping following a route along Union Street, past the Roman Baths, under the arches towards the Pump rooms and Bath Abbey, through the winding narrow alleyways with their tiny cramped shops and then turning left up Milsom Street and back in the direction of the grand houses further up the hill in The Circus and Royal Crescent. The Allens were renting such a house and from her bedroom at the top in its elevated position she could see the whole of Bath laid out before her, the river Avon winding its way through the city and the hills to the south stretching out towards Somerset and Wiltshire. Despite the fact that the city was heaving with tourists in summer Molly liked the atmosphere: the traders selling their wares, the street artists with sketches of local scenes and performers singing, doing comic routines and generally entertaining the crowds. The City was buzzing and alive and although she couldn't help thinking that the job had sadly matched her initial expectations, the city at least had surpassed them and on balance she didn't feel entirely sorry to be here. All she wanted was a little more excitement in her life.

As she emerged onto the main street from one of the little alleyways she spotted a sign stating 'Prestige Appointments' in the shop front opposite and realised it was the same 'Prestige' agency that Izzy had mentioned. Curiosity got the better of her and dodging the traffic she crossed the road and peered through the window just at the moment that someone inside, talking to a man seated at a desk, happened to turn her head and look in Molly's direction. With a start Molly realised that it was Izzy. The girl recognised her, smiled and waved furiously at her indicating that she should come in. Feeling too embarrassed to walk away, Molly pushed the door open and entered.

"What a coincidence," Izzy cried before Molly had taken more than a couple of steps inside the office. "So, are you going sign up then, because Andy's desperate for staff for tomorrow night, aren't you?" She gazed back at the bearded young man behind the desk, whose crumpled shirt, loosened tie now hanging at an angle to the collar and slightly harassed expression suggested he was not having a good day. Izzy flashed him a dazzling smile. He frowned in Molly's direction.

"Have you had any catering experience, large functions or silver-service?"

Molly paused to consider a reply to this but before she could say anything Izzy jumped in and answered on her behalf, "Of course she has. I met her at the Allen's dinner party the other night."

This news seemed to satisfy Andy. "Alright. Fill this out and we can get you on the system. Can you work tomorrow night?" He handed her an application form and a pen and gestured to an empty desk in the corner of the room. Molly, slightly bemused by the proceedings, wandered over to the desk, sat down and began to fill out the form assisted by Izzy who sat herself opposite and threw in suggestions every time Molly paused over a question on the form. Fifteen minutes later she returned it to Andy who gave it a cursory glance before saying, "OK, you'll need to be at The Assembly Rooms at five thirty tomorrow, can you manage that?"

It was a bit earlier than Molly had anticipated but she thought Mrs Allen would let her go out if she made up a suitable excuse such as a doctor's appointment. She nodded, "Yes, I think so."

"OK then. You'll need to wear a black skirt, white shirt and black shoes. Got that?"

Molly nodded and Izzy grinned at her, "It'll be fun, wait and see." She ushered Molly out of the office and as they shut the door behind them, Molly turned to her and said feeling slightly panicked, "I aint got a black skirt or a white shirt. I never wear skirts."

Izzy shrugged, "Well I've got loads. Come back to my place and I'll find you something."

It had been a good ten minute walk from the City Centre to Izzy's place in Oldfield Park. When they finally turned off the main road into a side street and Izzy opened the gate and went up a path to the front door of a large terraced house Molly said, "Is this your mum and dad's house?"

Izzy laughed, "No, it's rented. I'm sharing it with Jack and some of his friends from Uni."

"Who's Jack?"

"Oh," Izzy waved her hand dismissively, "just my brother. Don't mind him. He goes on a bit but girls seem to like him." She pulled a face which suggested she couldn't understand why.

Once through the front door Molly could see it was the epitome of a student house or at least everything she had heard about them having never known any university students before. Belinda, Molly's mum, wasn't particularly tidy or house proud but it was nothing that a bit of elbow grease couldn't sort out in an hour or two. This house was something different. There had been little regard for cleaning, hoovering or washing-up for a very long time but Izzy seemed unconcerned. There was loud rock music playing from a room upstairs and Izzy shook her head, "That's Jimmy, he's got a strange taste in music." She nodded in the direction of the stairs, "Come on, my room's up here."

As they reached the landing one of the doors opened and the head of a short-cropped, spiky, blonde-haired young man with unusually pale blue eyes behind small round glasses, peered around it, "Oh, it's you," he said and then catching sight of Molly added, "But who's your friend?"

Izzy turned to Molly, "This, unfortunately, is Jack."

Jack Thorpe opened the door wide and with one hand resting on the edge leaned his weight against it, head slightly on one side as he took in the sight of Molly and said very casually, "How do you do?"

It was a simple enough question but the way he said it, eyes lowered and obviously trained upon her chest, his voice a silky imitation of something he'd heard at the movies and clearly intended to sound seductive, combined with his rather non-descript appearance in jeans and a tee-shirt that were neither fashionable nor indicative of individual style, made little impression on Molly. However, not wishing to be rude to Izzy's brother, she, smiled and replied, "Hello, I'm Molly."

He stepped forward offered a hand and she took it rather gingerly as he said, "I'm very pleased to meet you, Molly."

She wished she could say the same. His hand felt rather warm and sticky and he was trying too hard to make eye contact with her. She took her hand away as soon as she decently could and surreptitiously placed it behind her as she rubbed it on the back of her trousers.

"Izzy hasn't mentioned you before."

"No, we only met the other day," Molly replied.

"Well, I certainly hope we meet again." He was giving her a strange sidelong look that Molly found a little unnerving.

"Oh Jack, shut up with that crap and get back to your films," Izzy interrupted before turning to Molly and saying, "He's mad about strange, old black and white films which explains a lot."

Jack looked wounded and turning to Molly said, "Film-Noir."

She looked at him blankly.

"Crime and suspense thrillers from the 1940's and 50's?" he expained.

Molly nodded, remembering seeing a few old films on one of the satellite channels once as she was flicking through the myriad of channels on the set-top box and hearing her Nan, wax lyrical at the sight of them and her memories of sitting in the back row of the Roxy years ago with someone called Maurice who hadn't been Molly's Grandad.

"Oh, yes." Molly replied injecting a false note of understanding into her voice.

It was encouragement enough for Jack. "Perhaps, I could show you my collection or maybe we could catch a movie together, sometime. The Film Society's showing 'The Postman always Rings Twice' next week," Jack said quickly, adding as if it would be the clincher, "The 1946 Lana Turner version, of course."

There wasn't time for Molly to answer before Izzy said impatiently, "Leave her alone, Jack, we're busy."

He tried to pretend he wasn't bothered and shrugging said to Molly, "You don't know what you're missing."

Molly merely smiled and thought _I think I do._

Izzy had loaned her a skirt and blouse from a fairly large collection. They weren't a particularly good fit given that Izzy, in excess of five feet eight inches tall and of slender, willowy build was at least four inches taller and quite a different shape to Molly. The skirt reached a fraction below her knees and was a bit tight across the thighs and the long-sleeved shirt had to be turned up at the cuffs and tucked into the skirt to avoid looking like a pyjama top. If lack of funds hadn't been such a problem, Molly would have gone out and bought herself something that fitted better but she was strapped for cash and beggars couldn't be choosers. To cap it all, Izzy gave her a pair of black pumps which although the right size were too narrow for Molly's wider feet and she felt sure they would pinch.

Two hours into the function at the Assembly rooms, Molly knew she had been right about the shoes. She was sure she would have blisters on her little toes and could already feel the stinging sensation from the friction of skin on the hard lining of the shoes as she walked back and forth. It was a very formal civic reception and the great and good of the city and local area had been invited to celebrate a host of local achievements culminating in some awards at the end of the evening.

With relief, Molly saw the last full glass of champagne lifted from her tray and lowering it she began to search for empty glasses which she had been told to collect and return before fetching another full tray. She moved as easily as she could in the packed room, weaving her way through the people around her. She was trying to move nearer to the bar when she met a group of four people coming the opposite way. There wasn't enough space for them to pass and she hastily took two steps backwards. As she did so she felt herself tread on someone's foot at exactly the same moment as she collided with them making the glasses on her tray rattle, clink and start to slide ominously in the direction of the floor.

"Oh, shit," she cried trying to straighten her arm and tip the glasses back towards her but she couldn't stand upright. She was caught somehow. A hand reached out to grasp the tray and lift it from her and looking upwards she found herself staring into the dark brown eyes of a tall, young man in uniform who was now holding the offending tray aloft.

"We seem to have become entangled."

He was well spoken and to Molly's ears he sounded amused. She glanced down and saw that a loose thread on her sleeve had got caught on the buckle of his leather belt.

"I suppose this is something of a military emergency," he remarked, "but I will have to defer to you for assistance on this occasion." He pointed towards his belt on which the thread was still ensnared and as he was holding the tray of empty glasses it fell to Molly to fiddle about loosening the thread from his buckle which she did with a slight tug, accompanied by a ripping sound which caused the glasses above her to rattle all the more as he moved. All the time she was conscious of standing rather too close to him and could feel his eyes cast down upon her until they were separated again.

"I do hope you haven't torn your blouse?" he said as he stepped back.

Molly could see that seam had come apart but she tried to pretend she hadn't noticed it, "No, it's fine."

He reached a long elegant finger towards the hole and pointed, "I think there is a small tear. I'd be very happy to get it repaired for you."

Molly felt a little flustered, "It's alright. It's not mine." She didn't know why she'd just blurted that out and she felt her face growing warm.

"I see," he said with a serious expression, "Well in that case it seems I owe a double apology. Perhaps I should take the blouse to the real owner and ask them what they think." Molly stared up at him, worried for a moment that he meant what he said and she'd have to go and find Izzy and explain in front of him how she'd damaged the borrowed blouse when she had intended to do a quick repair job when she got home and hope that Izzy didn't notice.

He smiled, seeing her confusion and she realised with relief that he was joking, "Relax. I don't think it would be a good idea for you to take if off and hand it over to me right here and now. If it's not an issue then we'll leave it as it is."

He suddenly remembered that he was still holding the tray and handed it back to her.

"Thanks." She took it from him and was about to turn away and go back to the bar for more champagne but she couldn't help asking, "Is your uniform alright?"

He glanced down, surprised by the question and inspected it. "I believe so."

"Are you in the army?" Molly asked adding quickly, "only there's quite a few uniforms in here and I wasn't sure which was which with all the different colours."

He smiled. "I imagine it's quite confusing, but you're right, I'm most definitely in the army."

"Why are you here, then?" Molly asked, "I mean, I thought this was something to do with the council."

He nodded, "It is but I'm representing my father, General James. He couldn't make it today and he's head of a veteran's organisation that does charity work here."

Molly's eyes almost popped out of her head, "Your father's a General!"

The man laughed, "Yes, but he's retired and I'm only a lowly Captain with a lot to live up to."

Molly gazed at him. He was nice. Well, she had to admit he was more than nice. He was friendly, good-humoured and not at all bad looking. She'd never been particularly interested in anything to do with the army but the uniform certainly did something for him and unlike a few of the other people in here, he wasn't ignoring her or looking down his nose at her. She'd noticed the odd stare from a few of the women and assumed it was something to do with her ill-fitting ensemble but this man, Captain James, didn't seem bothered. With a start, she realised she must be staring and neither of them was saying anything, however, she was snapped out of her thoughts by a voice hissing, "Molly, you need to fetch more glasses." She turned her head to see Izzy standing alongside her.

Captain James sensing it was time to move on nodded in their direction, "Excuse me ladies, I need to circulate." He turned away and strolled through the crowds in the direction of the ballroom, tall, broad-shouldered and seemingly at ease in his company.

Izzy gave a low whistle under her breath, "Sorry to break up the party but Pete at the bar sent me over. Where did you find that officer? He could circulate around me any time he liked."

Molly couldn't help giggling, "Yeah, I think I could put up with that too."

She returned to the bar and fetched more glasses and slowly worked her way around the room. She saw Captain James several times but on each occasion he was deep in conversation and didn't look in her direction. It was only at the end of the evening as the final guests were leaving and the caterers were in the process of clearing up that Molly happened upon Captain James again. He had just collected his cap and gloves from the cloakroom and was about to leave. He caught sight of her walking towards him and as she drew level he paused and said, "You know, I clean forgot earlier but I could have mended your blouse myself."

Molly stopped and looked up at him frowning, "What?"

"I'm a dab hand with a needle and thread, you know."

Molly laughed, "Really? Taught you that in the army did they?"

He smiled at her, "Oh, no," and leaning a little closer he lowered his voice. "Boy Scouts sewing badge. Be prepared and all that." He winked at her and laughing a little turned and walked away.

Molly watched him disappear into the dark night beyond and smiled to herself. In spite of her sore feet and aching arms, Izzy had been right; this was a lot more fun than working at the Allen's house.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Thank you so much to everyone who read and/or reviewed chapter one. I really appreciated all your comments and I'm sorry if I didn't reply personally. The Our Girl readers really are a lovely, kind bunch of people. To be honest I wasn't entirely sure about the story when I began but you were all so kind and encouraging about it that it's given me the enthusiasm to push on with it. I will try to update as quickly as I can but it's taking me longer these days due to other commitments so please bear with me. I'll keep going and we'll see where it all leads, however long it takes. Most of all I just enjoy writing the stories so thank you all again for reading._**

 **Chapter Two**

Molly's heart was in her mouth. Ingrid Bergman walked away from the camera with the key in her closed left hand, anxiety written all over her face as her unsuspecting husband emerged from the bathroom and catching her up grasped both her hands in his. He turned them over and uncurled the fingers of her left hand. The key was gone. He kissed her open palm and reached for her right hand into which the key had been transferred. Molly held her breath. Ingrid Bergman threw her arms around her husband and stealthily allowed the key to drop to the floor. Relief flooded over Molly. That had been a close call. She was suddenly aware of being watched and turning her head to the right noticed Jack Thorpe's eyes upon her. He was sitting next to her with Izzy and Jimmy Morland on her left in the large lecture theatre in which the Film Society was screening _Notorious_.

It hadn't been Molly's intention to come to see the film tonight when she had called round for Izzy. It had been difficult enough to get the evening off for the intended night out at a local bar without wasting it on the University Film Society. Molly didn't want the Allens to find out about her moonlighting with Prestige thinking that they wouldn't like the idea of her working elsewhere when she was supposed to be working exclusively for them. Mrs Allen had remarked on the fact that Molly had suddenly started going out after four weeks of staying in most of the time and she had told them honestly that she'd made a new friend. She had two evenings each week free as well as a whole day and a half day either morning or evening depending on the Allen's arrangements and so far she had managed to work on most of the days available. The business lunch the day before yesterday had been tricky and she'd had to tell a fib about only being able to get an opticians appointment immediately after lunch to explain not getting back until half past three but the Allens hadn't seemed suspicious. It was then that she and Izzy had arranged to go out for a drink. It wasn't her official evening off but she'd asked if she could swap and the Allens had reluctanty agreed and made a rare excursion to visit friends of their own. By the time Molly arrived at Izzy's house the evening's the plans had been changed and she found herself solicited by Izzy to go with her to see a film instead accompanied by Jack and Jimmy.

The Film Society screening of the Alfred Hitchocks film, _Notorious,_ didn't sound to Molly as if it would be much fun. She preferred a good romcom or something with a bit of action and Jack's description of a seventy year old black and white suspense thriller with actors she had never heard of sounded as dull as ditch water. The request from Izzy was particularly unexpected as she had been dismissive of Jack's films the first time Molly had visited the house and Molly had assumed that she had no more interest in cinema than herself. The reason for Izzy's change of heart became apparent, however, when Molly met Jimmy for the first time. Izzy had complained in passing last week about his strange taste in music and the speaker blaring at almost full volume from behind a closed bedroom door had been the only evidence of his existence. Molly had assumed from that single comment that Izzy didn't care for him much. Seeing him in the flesh, however, was a very different matter.

Jimmy Morland combined the looks of a rock star with a curiously quiet and unassuming personality. He was tall and slim, with an unruly mop of dark hair that only served to make his narrow, angular features somehow more appealing. He dressed with unconscious good taste, appearing to have pulled on the first item of clothing lying around and yet despite the fact that it was crumpled and possibly hadn't seen the inside of washing machine for a while it somehow suited him perfectly and only seemed to add to his charm. Molly was perplexed and suspicious of Izzy's keen championing of going to see the film tonight with Jack but when Jimmy had appeared obviously intending to join the party and Molly had seen Izzy's eyes light up and her ready smile cast in his direction, the reason for her sudden interest in the arts became clear.

As they had walked up the hill towards the University Molly had felt increasingly annoyed at Izzy's change of their plans particularly as she had quickly paired herself off with Jimmy and dropped her pace so that they lagged behind leaving Molly to walk ahead with Jack. She was not at all pleased about being expected to keep Izzy's irritating brother company whilst Izzy dominated Jimmy's attention but tried to console herself with the thought that at least they were going to watch a film and she wouldn't have to talk to him all night although the one-sided conversation about Jack's views on many subjects was wearing thin within a few minutes of setting out.

Jack Thorpe's personality was an awkward blend of self-confidence combined with an overestimation of his ability to please the opposite sex. His flirtatious comments consisted of a succession of back-handed compliments and mistimed jokes that he assumed women found amusing and endearing but which were at best irritating and at worst offensive. What was even more infuriating to Molly was the fact that he seemed to lack any capacity for recognising that his chat-up lines didn't work. No matter how many silences followed his comments or pained expressions Molly pulled he continued undeterred to utter a succession of boastful remarks about places he had been, people he had met and things he had done that failed to impress her at all, mostly because she had no idea what he was talking about. When not boasting he made frequent comments that very clearly indicated he fancied her and thought he was in with a chance. Molly considered Izzy a friend and she didn't want to tell Jack in front of his sister to piss off and leave her alone. It would be awkward and embarrassing so she decided silence was the best policy although Jack seemed to consider this encouragement. Molly wondered briefly if he was so used to be told where to go that any different reaction seemed like encouragement to him. She decided that the only thing she could reasonably do would be to talk to Izzy about it when they were alone. Perhaps she would know how to tell Jack to back off and he would listen.

The slow pace of Izzy and Jimmy meant that they only arrived a few minutes before the screening commenced. Molly, uncomfortably conscious of Jack sitting close to her, settled down in the darkness and concentrated on the screen in front hoping to blank out the sound of him breathing next to her.

When the film ended and the music and credits began to roll Molly was genuinely surprised by her reaction. She had never expected to be drawn into the story or have any emotional response to the main characters' predicament but she had been strangely captivated and happily relieved at the conclusion.

"So, what did you think?" Jack asked her as the lights came up.

She could see he was eager for her opinion and although she didn't want to encourage him she couldn't lie. She shrugged. "It was quite good, actually."

He looked smug at this comment. "I told you so. You should have come last week. You missed a really good film. Next week's the end of term and we're showing _The Third Man_ you can't miss that."

Molly pulled a face. "There's not much point in me watching the third Man if I haven't seen the first or second man." On top of this she doubted that finding one film reasonably entertaining would make her a fan of them in general and hoped to dampen his enthusiasm.

Jack stared at her almost nonplussed until finally gathering her meaning he laughed incredulously and said in a loud voice that carried and drew the attention of several people nearby, "It's not the last in some ghastly trilogy, Molly. It's a British classic."

Realising her mistake and feeling a little foolish she coloured slightly but was determined not to let him see her embarrassment. "I expect I'll be working. I'm pretty busy with the function stuff now."

He stopped laughing and looked a bit disappointed. "Well, I'd be happy to accompany you if you find you're free." He looked beyond her towards Izzy and Jimmy who were in quiet conversation. "What about you two? I bet you'd like to see _The Third Man_ wouldn't you Jimmy?"

Jimmy looked up and smiled, the picture of easy-going, good-humour. "Sure, why not. You'll come too, won't you Izzy?"

Izzy pretended to think about it and Molly felt sure she was doing it to tease Jimmy. "I think there's nothing on the rota for next week, so I expect I can come." She looked at Molly. "We both could, couldn't we, Molly?"

Jack turned to Molly. "Well if Izzy isn't working, you can't be either. It's a date, then."

Molly glared at Izzy who briefly glanced at her and then feigning a look of innocence turned her attention back to Jimmy. Jack, meanwhile, proceeded to relate to Molly the plot of _The Third Man_ spoiling any chance of her being surprised should she actually find herself forced to watch the film next week. However, she had already determined that she was not going to be persuaded into attending another of these evenings no matter what the others said.

Five minutes later after being ushered out of the lecture theatre as it was time to shut up for the evening, the party moved to the Union bar for a drink before walking home. It was half-full and they didn't have to wait too long before they were served. Although Molly would rather have headed home she was nevertheless cheered a little by the drink and the addition of several other people to their party some of whom had watched the film and were discussing it in more detail. Molly listened to the conversation and found some of it interesting although other points were too deep or technical for her to understand or appreciate with her limited knowledge of the genre.

On the fringes of the group drinking at the bar was a pretty auburn haired girl standing with a tall, tanned and handsome man who looked a little older than most of others around him. They were standing just behind Jack and although not members of the party they appeared to be listening. Jack was sallying forth on the subject of a film called _Gaslight_ declaring it to be a fine example of psychological suspense and had uttered what he thought was a particularly witty observation. He paused to see the effect of his words on his audience expecting to see nods of approval or hear laughter when his attention was caught by something else and he suddenly spun around towards the girl and the man behind him and exclaimed, "What did you say? You can't seriously believe that _Rebecca_ was better than _Gaslight_!"

Molly saw at once that the girl was startled by his attention and embarrassed by the fact that the spotlight had been turned on her. Everyone was now staring at her. The man with her was equally surprised. The girl's mouth dropped open a little and she hesitated before saying in a faltering voice, "I've always liked it more, that's all."

Jack shook his head and looked genuinely agog at such a pronouncement. "That's plainly ridiculous. You must be blind to think that's better. Anyone with any sense would prefer _Gaslight_."

The man with the girl spoke up, his voice was soft and slightly accented but Molly couldn't place it. "She's entitled to her opinion."

Jack gave a derisory laugh. "Well, not if it's a poor and ill-informed one." He obviously thought this was funny and expected other people to laugh. He was speaking loudly enough for the group around him to hear. Most however were silent and embarrassed for the girl. She blushed to the roots of her hair and looked humiliated and Molly's patience with Jack finally snapped.

"Well, you've certainly given us your opinions on everything under the sun tonight," she began in a loud clear voice that surprised him, "and it's a good job most people are too polite to say what they think about them. But I'm not polite, so shut the fuck up and leave other people alone."

There was a stunned silence. Molly heard someone behind her stifle a laugh and realised that she had probably said what most of them were thinking. Jack was taken aback and seemed unsure what to do next. After a moment's hesitation however, he decided to try and save face by laughing it off, "I love your sense of humour." The look in his eyes said something quite different. Molly was sure he was annoyed and wondered briefly if she had gone too far but it was too late now and served him right. Jack turned back to the bar and started to order more drinks although he made no effort to include Molly and she was sure her words had hit home. In the meantime the girl and the man had moved away to the far corner of the bar and had found a spare table to sit down. Molly was glad for their sakes. The girl hadn't done anything to deserve Jack's unwelcome attention and even though she realised the walk home was likely to be an awkward one she wasn't sorry he'd been taken down a peg or two. With luck it would put paid to any more unpleasant attempts on his part at flirtation.

With Izzy and Jimmy still wrapped up in each other's company and Jack clearly sulking at Molly's comments, studiously avoiding her and talking to other people, she found herself alone on the fringes of the group. She glanced at the clock behind the bar and saw that it was just after ten. She supposed that they would have to leave at some point in the next hour and hoped it wouldn't be too long as she was feeling awkward now. She didn't know anyone else here. She put her empty glass down on the bar and decided to head to the Ladies to waste a few minutes and ponder what to do next. She threaded her way past a couple of groups of people who were blocking the route to the door and had almost reached it when she stepped into the path of someone coming the other way. Eyes cast down she automatically moved to the left when a voice caught her attention.

"God, it's you! This is becoming a habit." Molly looked up and saw that the startled expression on Captain James' face mirrored her own. The surprise in his voice had been evident but there was warmth too.

Molly stared at him. It had been almost two weeks since the Assembly Rooms function and she'd worked on two others since then. She'd received her first wages yesterday and splashed out on a new top which she had put on especially for the originally planned evening out with Izzy. She hadn't forgotten him, of course, but she hadn't really expected to see him again either and certainly not here of all places. In fact, she had hardly recognised him dressed in jeans and a pale blue shirt. In her mind's eye whenever she had thought of him he was always resplendent in uniform.

"We met at the Assembly Rooms, last week?" he reminded her seeing the confused expression on her face and mistaking its meaning.

She pulled herself together. "Sorry, yeah. I remember." She pointed at him. "The ex-boy scout."

He laughed. "That was true, you know."

She looked him up and down and said with a giggle, "I can believe it. Where's your uniform?"

He shrugged. "I'm off duty."

"Do you live in Bath, then?" Molly asked.

He shook his head. "No, not now. I'm stationed near Warminster but it's not far."

Molly had heard of Warminster although she had never been there or anywhere else in this area and guessing it might not have much to offer in respect of entertainment said, "You're on a night out, then?"

He nodded. "Something like that. What about you?"

"I'm just here with some friends," she replied waving her hand vaguely in the direction of Izzy and James and hoping very much that Jack was nowhere to be seen.

"You're a student?"

"Not exactly but they are."

He seemed to take in this news but said nothing. There was a lull in the conversation and he looked briefly over her head and glanced around the bar. His eyes rested on someone in the far corner. Molly followed his gaze and saw the auburn-haired girl from before. She was still talking to the older man but she must have noticed Captain James out of the corner of her eye and she looked up and smiled at him. It was a warm, open, affectionate smile; a smile of recognition. She raised her hand in greeting. Molly glanced at Captain James. He was also smiling, his eyes making contact with the girl and Molly saw that there was something between them. It was obvious from the way the girl returned his gaze that they shared a closeness and understanding. To her surprise Molly felt her heart sink at the realisation that he had a girlfriend. _Don't be stupid_ she told herself almost immediately. What reason did she have to be disappointed? It was nothing to her and none of her business.

Captain James looked back towards Molly, "I'm sorry I must be going but it was an unexpected pleasure to meet you again." He nodded at her. He was polite and courteous but nothing more. His attention and interest were now somewhere else entirely and he moved away through the crowd towards the couple in the corner where the girl was still waiting. As he reached them the girl stood up and moved towards him, throwing her arms around him and hugging him. He bent his head and kissed her cheek as they embraced and as she stepped back slightly to look at him his hands rested on her shoulders. He was looking down at her and they were sharing a joke and laughing. It was a brief intimate moment and once again Molly felt a small stab of envy. For a moment she realised how much she wished it was her greeting him like that. She couldn't remember ever having been treated like that by any boyfriend of hers, with genuine pleasure, warmth and affection. Most of them had behaved like total dickheads with an over inflated opinion of their attractiveness, strutting about as if she should be grateful to be in their presence and expecting her to trail in their wake and be available whenever the fancy took them. Thinking back she realised that was all it had ever been. Any flattery that had come her way had been nothing more than that, double-edged with ulterior motives that were mostly self-centred. A small voice inside her whispered _you're worth more._ She glanced across the room at Captain James and the girl and wondered for a moment if she would ever be worth as much as that.

The man who had been sitting with the girl had half-risen from his seat and was shaking hands with Captain James who smiled and nodded and then sat down at the table with them. The three of them were soon deep in conversation and judging by their expressions the matter seemed serious. Molly glanced in the direction of Izzy wondering if she had seen the Captain and recognised him as well but she was too busy, engrossed in conversation with Jimmy and throwing him flirtatious glances every so often which he appeared to be enjoying.

Molly went out to the Ladies room and when she returned five minutes later Captain James' party were still sitting there deep in discussion. She went to the bar and bought herself another drink. When she turned back she caught sight of movement at the table. The older man stood up quite suddenly. He looked cross. Captain James was saying something to him but he shook his head and then turned and left, crossing the bar and brushing past Molly as he made his way out. Seeing him up close she noticed that he was quite a lot older than the girl and possibly ten years or more older than herself. He apologised for knocking into her and again she caught the hint of an accent. She glanced back to the table. The girl was still and silent. Captain James reached for her hand and took it in his and then Molly noticed that she was crying. He put his arm round her and said something to her. Whatever it was must have cheered her a little as the hint of a smile appeared for a brief moment. She took out a tissue and dabbed at her eyes then they both rose from the table and started to cross the room with the girl leading the way. As they drew nearer, Molly could see the girls' eyes were shining with tears and that Captain James looked concerned but as she drew level and caught sight of Molly she stopped and gave a weak smile. "I'm sorry, I didn't say thank you for before."

Molly shrugged and smiled back at her. "It's alright. I've always had a loud mouth. You should have heard me at school."

"Well, I appreciate you speaking up for me," she said.

Molly felt the Captain's eyes upon her and risking a glance at him saw that he was curious about the exchange. The girl turned to him. "This girl," she turned back to Molly with an apologetic expression. "I'm sorry, that sounds so rude. I don't know your name."

"Molly," she supplied.

"Molly," the girl repeated, "told a rather rude chap what she thought of him because he said I was stupid for liking _Rebecca_ better than _Gaslight_. I'm not sure I could have done that myself. I'm not very good at dealing with people like that." It was obvious from her quiet manner of speaking and rather gentle voice that she was quite shy and clearly a total contrast to Molly.

Molly felt a bit sheepish. She hadn't minded in the least telling Jack Thorpe where to go. "To be honest," she confessed, "I quite enjoyed it. He's been winding me up all evening. Anytime you need rent-a-gob, you know where to come." She was joking but all the time she couldn't help thinking how unappealing she would sound to someone like Captain James. She was glad he hadn't been here to witness the event. He clearly preferred the quiet and retiring type and she was digging herself into a bigger hole with every word she uttered.

The girl turned to look at him. "We'd better go. We don't want to be late."

He nodded and tapped her lightly on the shoulder. "Yes, let's get back. I've got an early start in the morning."

The girl turned to Molly and gave her a little smile. "Goodbye." She walked on but Captain James paused for a moment and leaning towards Molly said, "Emma's not the only one who's grateful. Thanks from me, as well. _I_ appreciate it."

His eyes met hers and held her gaze for a few brief seconds. A jolt akin to a jangling nerve startled her. She felt a sudden undeniable connection to him and was afraid it might show in her face. If he saw anything he said nothing but turned from her and in a moment was gone. She wondered if she had imagined it. Perhaps her mind was playing tricks but there had been something in that look at least for her. She closed her eyes and released a long breath. Why had he gone and done that? It wasn't fair. Life wasn't fair. _Shit. Shit. Shit._


	3. Chapter 3

**_Thank you for all for reading and your kind reviews. I really appreciate it._**

 **Chapter Three**

"You're not out gallivanting anywhere tonight are you, Molly, dear?" Mrs Allen asked as Molly came into the dining room to clear the breakfast table.

Molly shook her head. "No Mrs Allen, I've got no plans."

Mrs Allen sighed. "Molly, how many times have I asked you to call me Janet? There's no need to stand on ceremony, is there Brian?" She looked across the table at her husband who was ensconced behind a copy of The Times.

He lowered the paper a fraction. "Pardon, dear?"

Mrs Allen adopted a patient expression and addressed him as if he were a child, "I said we'd like Molly to call us Janet and Brian, wouldn't we?" She nodded with emphasis and Mr Allen replied, "Yes, of course. You're quite right, as always, dear." He lifted the paper again and continued reading.

It was Friday and in an ideal world Molly would have had plenty of plans for tonight but since the evening in the University Union bar a few days ago she hadn't heard anything from Izzy apart from a couple of texts which were largely monologues about how brilliant Jimmy was. Thankfully, she hadn't mentioned anything about Jack and Molly could only assume that he had said nothing to his sister about the incident and had wanted to keep his embarrassment to himself. He had been fairly quiet on the way home and mostly talked to Jimmy. Molly had walked a little behind the other three but she hadn't minded. Her head had been filled with other thoughts and she couldn't get the memory of Captain James' eyes looking directly into her own out of her head. Later that night when she was lying in bed she found herself sighing aloud and staring up at the ceiling, wondering why she couldn't ever meet someone like him. Well, she had met him, of course, but she supposed what she really meant was, someone attainable. Men like him were not for the likes of her. Men with generals for fathers didn't end up with girls who worked in domestic service for a living. Well, only in Victorian times and even then, from what her Nan had once said, it was just for fun; chiefly their own. Time might have moved on and the world might have changed but not that much. The Captain James's of this world weren't looking for someone like her apart from maybe a quick bunk up if the opportunity arose but that wasn't what she wanted anymore. She'd seen the way he'd looked at Emma, the affection and consideration he'd shown to her and she knew that it was what she wanted too. She shook her head at herself surprised by the realisation that what she really wanted was the simplest thing in the world; to fall in love and to be loved in return.

The last few days working at the Allen's house had seemed particularly long and boring. Prestige had contacted her once to see if she was available for a lunch but she'd had to decline as she had work to do. From Mrs Allen's question this morning it appeared that they needed her at home tonight as well.

"Have you got visitors tonight, Mrs…Janet?" Molly said with a smile remembering to use her first name just in time.

"Yes," she replied brightly, clearly pleased that Molly was heeding her request at last. "A few people are coming round for drinks this evening. Well, to be honest it's more of a drinks party. Will you be able to manage?" She feigned a look of concern, her brow slightly furrowed, inviting Molly to tell her if she thought there would be a problem.

Molly nodded. "I'm sure I'll be fine. Shall I do the usual and how many is it for?"

Janet Allen relaxed her expression. "You're so good at this, Molly. The usual will be fine and I think it's about a dozen including us. They'll be here for seven."

Molly cleared away the rest of the breakfast dishes and took them downstairs to the kitchen in the basement. She stacked the ordinary crockery in the dishwasher but put the more delicate items next to the sink. Mrs Allen had been very insistent that the bone china was carefully washed by hand to ensure that the patterns were perfectly preserved. When she had dealt with the washing up she turned to the telephone. Doing the usual meant ordering in canapes for delivery late that afternoon and ensuring that drinks were well stocked upstairs and any champagne or white wine was thoroughly chilled before the guests arrived. Later she'd clean the lounge and ensure everything was set up for the evening. Mrs Allen went out at half past ten to do some shopping and then meet a friend for lunch and Mr Allen had, rather unusually, mentioned something about going to the Golf Club later. Molly hadn't realised that he played golf although when she saw him leaving the house at half past eleven he wasn't carrying any golf clubs with him. Knowing how fond he was of sedentary pursuits she assumed his trip to the Golf Club would take him no further that the clubhouse bar.

By the time Molly had finished cleaning it was lunch time and she was about to make her way downstairs to grab a sandwich when her phone bleeped and she saw that Izzy had sent her a text.

 _Just out for a pizza. Are you free?_

Neither Mr nor Mrs Allen would be back for a few hours and Molly guessed they wouldn't mind her going out as long as she was back in time to take delivery of the canapes and get everything ready for their guests tonight. Molly replied to Izzy and they arranged to meet in fifteen minutes at a cheap place they both knew.

When Molly arrived it was the middle of the lunch time rush and quite crowded as a lot of other people knew the place to be reasonable, particularly students. She craned her neck around looking for Izzy until her eyes fell on a group of three sitting in the far corner. To her dismay she saw that Izzy was sitting with Jack and Jimmy. Molly didn't mind Jimmy. He didn't say much and in any case he was far more interested in Izzy. The sight of Jack, however, was very unwelcome. She wouldn't have come if Izzy had told her she wasn't alone but Molly couldn't escape the situation now. She would just have to brazen it out and pretend that everything was fine.

Molly threaded her way through the other diners towards the table in the corner and Izzy waved and looked thrilled to see her. She stood up as Molly drew level and gave her an affected air kiss which Molly found irritating and a bit unnecessary but she smiled and greeted her and the two young men with her. Jimmy looked up, nodded and said, "Alright". Jack glanced at her and said, "Nice of you to join us." She shrugged and trying to ignore the comment and not think about what he might mean by it, she sat down.

They perused the menus for a while before making their choices and Jack managed to throw in a couple of veiled digs at Molly's unadventurous palate when she ordered a Margherita pizza chiefly on the basis of cost but the last laugh was on him, however, when he ordered something he'd never tried before and didn't like it. During the meal Molly noticed Izzy smiling to herself a few times and glancing at both Jimmy and Jack in a conspiratorial manner as if they were all sharing a joke. However, it wasn't until they were half way through their lunch that Izzy threw down her knife and fork and clapped her hands together like an excited seal.

"Guess what?" she cried looking at Molly and unable to contain her news any longer, "Jimmy and Jack have signed up with Prestige for the summer holidays. We'll all be working together. It's going to be great."

Molly fought to hide her feelings on hearing this news. Working with Jack was very far from being 'great' in her book. Izzy noticed she wasn't beaming with joy and said, "Is something wrong, Molly?"

Molly shook her head. "Why would it be?"

Jack caught her eye. "You look surprised by the news."

"I am," she confessed hoping to pass it off with a stab at humour, "I'm not sure a frilly apron will suit you, Jack."

He pulled a mock pained expression and shrugged, "I've got to earn some money over the summer to pay the rent and Izzy thought it was a great idea. _You_ don't mind do you?"

Molly felt there was an edge to his question. She wanted to defuse any tension so she replied as brightly as she could, "Of course not. Izzy's right. It'll be fun."

The conversation moved onto other topics. Jimmy and Izzy were keen to go to some festivals during the holidays although Jack expressed a dislike of camping and for once Molly had to agree with him. She'd been on a school camp once as part of a Geography field trip in Year eleven. It hadn't been a success due to two days of constant rain and the fact that she'd got into a lot of trouble for bunking off to a pub down the road. She'd been caught by one of the teachers and her parents had been informed. Her mum had been slightly annoyed but her dad, by contrast, had thought it was hilarious and asked Belinda what else she thought Molly was supposed to do if it was pissing down with rain.

"I can't stand the countryside," Molly said. "All that space with nothing in it, well, nothing interesting, just piles of cowpats."

Jack had laughed and it seemed to thaw the atmosphere between them. He was less watchful and on edge and they talked in a more relaxed manner while they were eating. By the time they rose to leave he asked her in a perfectly reasonable voice whether she had thought any more about going to see _The Third Man_ next week _._ She really didn't want to agree but on the other hand she didn't want to spoil the improved atmosphere particularly if she was going to have to work with Jack over the next few months. It looked as if he'd forgiven her for the outburst a few days ago, however much he'd deserved it.

"I'm not sure, yet, I'll have to let you know," she promised.

He leaned in close to her and lowered his voice, "Just make sure you do." She resisted the very strong urge to shove him out of the way and made no reply. He obviously thought that he was back in with a chance but hell would freeze over before she'd be knocking at his door. She made her excuses about needing to get back to make arrangements for the drinks party and left. As she turned her head she could see Jack leaning against some railings outside the pizza place watching her walk away. He caught her eye and gave her a mock salute which she studiously ignored as she hastened her steps away from him up the hill.

X-X-X-X

The doorbell rang upstairs and Molly heard the click of Mrs Allen's high-heeled shoes as she crossed the hall to the front door. Voices echoed and carried down the stairs to the kitchen and Molly knew she would be expected upstairs once everyone had arrived to put out the canapes and offer them around. Mr Allen would play the host and pour drinks. All she needed to do was make sure everything was topped up. The doorbell rang several more times and eventually Mrs Allen's head appeared over the banisters as she called out, "All ready, Molly?"

Molly nodded and picked up the first tray of canapes. Mrs Allen came down and took it from her offering to help so that Molly could return to pick up the second tray and follow her upstairs to the lounge. As Molly reached the hall she could hear the murmur of conversation and as Mrs Allen opened the door the noise increased. A woman with a high-pitched tinkling laugh was clearly amused by a joke and she was seconded by a man guffawing loudly. Molly entered the room. There were the usual array of guests of a similar age to the Allens present and she recognised one or two but most were new acquaintances and the overheard conversation seemed to be largely about golf. She had placed the second tray of canapes on a low table and was about to circulate when the doorbell rang again and Mrs Allen called, "Could you get that, Molly, dear?"

Molly went out into the hall and opened the front door. She had never met the visitor before. She judged him to be in his late fifties or early sixties although apart from the slight greying of the hair at his temples he could have passed for much younger. He was immaculately dressed in a tailored suit that showed he looked after himself and was in good condition for a man of his age. Tall and broad shouldered, he held himself proudly erect and addressed her in a clear authoritative tone, "Good evening. General James for Mr and Mrs Allen."

Molly immediately recognised his name. There couldn't be two General James's in Bath. He stepped aside and Molly suddenly caught sight of the auburn-haired girl who had been standing one step below him. Molly recognised her as Emma from the University Union bar. The girl's eyes widened in surprise at the sight of Molly, having clearly recognised her too but she said nothing and with a hint of anxiety in her expression looked behind her. Molly followed her gaze and saw that coming along the pavement, in full uniform, having obviously only just parked his car as he still had the keys in his hand and appearing to be rushing, was Captain James.

"Hurry up," the General called to him, the impatience in his voice obvious.

Molly and Captain James caught sight of each other at exactly the same moment. He started and she stared in astonishment but there was no time to say anything. Molly stood to one side and held the door open as the General entered followed by Emma. Captain James glanced at Molly as he walked past her but he was clearly dumbstruck by the fact that their paths had crossed yet again and seemed unusually flustered by the fact. As Molly shut the door the General said, "I'm so sorry we're late. We were held up." There was something in the tone of his voice which made Molly think he was annoyed and the way he looked at Captain James as he said it suggested that he was the cause.

"Oh, you're not late, " she replied automatically, "Janet and Brian really aren't bothered about that sort of thing anyway. Please, come this way." She led them down the hall to the lounge and as they entered the room, Brian left his guests and came over to greet them. It was obvious to Molly that the General was a new acquaintance as Brian called Janet over and introduced her. Then in a loud clear voice the General introduced, "My son, Charles and my daughter, Emma."

The Allens were shaking hands with Charles and Emma but Molly was concentrating on two words the General had uttered; _my daughter_. She almost laughed out loud. It all made sense, of course. The way Charles had hugged and kissed Emma the other night, the closeness she had detected, the comforting when Emma had been upset, the genuine warmth and affection she had witnessed hadn't been a man greeting his girlfriend at all. It had been a brother who was clearly very fond of his sister.

Molly moved around the room offering canapes to Janet and Brian's guests and Brian kindly poured her a drink as he didn't like her to be left out. He often did this when she was helping out at one of the parties. As Mrs Allen had said this morning they really didn't stand on ceremony and remembering the words of Mike at Forefront staff she had to admit that they did treat her very well, almost like a member of the family. In fact, apart from the dinner parties which she didn't enjoy very much due to the large quantities of washing up and late nights, the rest of the work wasn't too bad. It wasn't very exciting and Bath might not have the exotic allure that she had initially dreamed about, but it had a charm of its own and right now it had gone up several notches in her estimation.

The Allens spent about five minutes talking with the General and Charles and Emma before moving on and leaving the James family to mingle. Charles was in demand as his uniform drew the attention of several of the ladies in the room. He seemed to be answering a lot of questions about life in the army with good humour and patience but Molly had noticed more than once that his eyes were turned towards her and she sensed that he wanted to speak to her. Emma had spent most of the time standing next to her father, saying only a little and mostly listening but on one occasion when he had stepped out of the room for a while, Molly spotted her by herself near the door. Molly moved towards her and offered her the tray of canapes. Emma took one and said in a quiet undertone, "I was very surprised to see you at the door. I didn't realise that you lived here but, of course, I've only met the Allens for the first time tonight."

Molly shrugged. "Well there's no reason you would have known."

Emma suddenly looked up and smiled and they were joined by Charles.

"Hello, Molly," he said. It was the first time he had said her name and it sounded very strange to her ears. "It seems as if it's a very small world indeed or…" he trailed off and glancing at him Molly could see that he looked tired and sounded slightly terse.

"I'm not a stalker," she said with an attempt at humour although regretted it at once as he didn't look amused by the remark.

"Look, I think we need to talk," he began, "about the other evening."

"So, you know each other?" A voice cut in and they all turned to see that the General had just rounded the door and caught the end of the exchange. He fixed his eyes upon all of them full of curiosity. "Where did you meet?"

Molly didn't get as far as opening her mouth before she heard Charles say, "Oh at the Buchanan's party the other week, wasn't it Molly?"

Molly stared at Charles as if he was mad. What on earth was he talking about?

"I see," said the General, "Well, I'm sorry I wasn't able to make it." He didn't appear to have noticed the expression on Molly's face.

"So you know the Buchanans, do you, Molly?" He was speaking directly to her and she was lost for an answer. Charles was standing a fraction behind his father and out of his eye line. To her astonishment Molly saw him stare at her, eyes wide and nod his head in encouragement. It was obvious he wanted her to agree with him and in her confusion she replied, "Yes, vaguely. Friends of a friend, sort of thing."

It appeared to have appeased the General. He looked at his daughter. "It's good to see you making new friends, Emma." He turned back to Molly. "Janet and Brian were telling me that you're staying with them for the summer. You must come over some time. It's always good to meet my children's friends." Molly realised in an instant that the General had no idea she was working for the Allens. She knew only too well the way they talked about her. 'Staying with them' was just the way they would refer to her employment, as well as insisting they use first names and calling her 'dear' every five minutes. The fact that she was upstairs with the guests drinking a glass of wine and chatting to the General's children was probably evidence enough in his eyes of a completely different relationship to one that actually existed. The General smiled at her, "Why don't you come to Harry's party next week, Molly."

Charles looked concerned at this request and Emma looked scared. Molly on the other hand was totally confused. She had no idea who Harry was, why Charles had made up a story about where they had met or what to say in response to the invitation. She glanced at Charles but this time he was impassive and she had no idea what to say but she had gained the impression that the General wasn't a man used to having his suggestions rejected.

"OK, " she said at last, unsure whether she had come to the right conclusion.

"Good, that's agreed then," the General said putting his stamp of approval on the scheme and then wandering off to talk to some other guests.

At that moment Janet Allen came across and asked Molly if she could fetch a couple more bottles of wine and then turning to Charles said, "Are you getting to know our Molly, Charles? She's such a dear girl, we wouldn't be without her."

Molly suddenly recalled the first time she and Charles had met and fearing he might mention it said, "Oh, yes, we've been introduced." He stared at her but said nothing.

Janet smiled and patted Molly affectionately on the arm. Molly could tell she was slightly tipsy now as she said, "That's lovely. Really lovely dear." She moved away and Molly, totally confused by the whole situation and feeling the need to escape for a few minutes to recover her composure took the opportunity to excuse herself and hurried away to fetch the wine.

By nine o'clock the drinks party had all but drawn to a close and most of the guests had left. Molly had been delayed downstairs for a while sorting out a problem with the dishwasher and when she came back upstairs she was disappointed to discover that only Janet Allen was still sitting in the lounge talking to one of her closest friends. As much as she hadn't known what to make of the incident with Charles and Emma she hadn't wanted them to leave and then she remembered the problem of the party invitation. What was she supposed to do about that?

Feeling deflated she called, "Shall I clear up, Janet?" Mrs Allen waved an inebriated hand in her direction and said, "You're so kind, dear," before sinking down on the sofa with eyes half closed.

Molly's head was spinning, not only from the couple of drinks Brian had pressed upon her during the party but from the confusing conversations that had taken place. With most of the guests gone she gathered some of the used plates and glasses in the room together and placing them on a tray, carried them downstairs to the kitchen. She started sorting them out when she was startled by the sound of footsteps in the passageway. She turned and to her surprise saw Charles walking towards her. He paused in the doorway. "May I come in?"

She nodded. "I thought you'd left."

He walked towards her pausing a few feet away. "My father wanted to see Brian's collection of golf memorabilia and Emma's with him. I was looking for you and Janet said you were down here."

Molly shrugged but didn't know what else to say. It had been a very strange evening and if anyone owed an explanation she thought it was him. However, she wasn't ready for his opening comment.

"I wish you hadn't agreed to come to the party."

Molly was incensed by his words. To her ears it sounded as if he was suggesting that she had somehow overstepped the mark in accepting the invitation which was pretty rich considering he had dropped her straight into the situation without any warning.

"You what?" she cried in astonishment feeling she had completely misjudged him until now.

He held up his hands in a placatory gesture. "I'm sorry that sounded completely wrong. I meant it's going to make things awkward."

Somehow this didn't sound any better to Molly. "Well you're right there. It's pretty bloody awkward from where I'm standing too. Why did you ask me to lie to your father about how we all met and who the hell are the Buchanans or Harry come to that?"

Charles regarded her. Her eyes were blazing, two pinpricks of colour had formed on her cheeks and all her attention was focused squarely on him. He could tell that she was quite rightly annoyed and he knew he ought to be concerned but just for a few seconds he couldn't help pausing, captivated by her animated expression and unaware that he looked as if he was not listening.

"Earth to Captain James," Molly said waving one hand in front of his face. Reluctantly, he brought his attention back to the matter in hand.

"I can't really talk about it here." He grimaced slightly. "Do you think you could just trust me on this? Please."

 _Trust him?_ She thought _._ He was appealing to her to trust him. She stared at him realising for the first time that something was changing between them. Quite unintentionally she had become involved in his life and now he needed her help. She wanted to help and she couldn't deny that she was willing to help but she wasn't going to let him think she was some kind of pushover.

"Alright, but just taking your word for it isn't going to be enough. I'm not turning up at some party without knowing what's going on. I didn't know what you were talking about earlier and you dropped me right in it with that stuff you made up. I can tell you didn't want your Dad to know where we met but I can't help you if I haven't got a clue what it's all about."

He rested his hands on his hips and frowned as he weighed this up. She had a point. He'd had no idea what would happen when he'd thrown in the comment about the Buchanan's party but she'd been smart enough to pick up on the situation and she'd played along even though she had no reason to do so. Nevertheless something occurred to him. "I hear what you're saying, Molly, but if we're talking about being dropped in it, why didn't you want me to tell Janet and Brian that we'd met at the Assembly Rooms a couple of weeks ago? You were very quick to make sure Janet didn't ask any more questions."

He watched her face for a response. She'd forgotten about that. He was right that the moment Janet had asked if Charles was getting to know her she'd been worried that he might mention where he'd seen her before. The Allens were good-natured and might understand about her moonlighting with Prestige but she'd rather they didn't find out.

"I've got my reasons," she said at last.

"Well then, so have I," he declared.

There was a moment's silence and Molly assumed that this would be his final word on the subject, not that it was going to help matters. However, he wasn't done yet.

"All I'm asking is that you just go along with the story about the Buchanan's Party. You don't need to elaborate. What you said before was fine. Would that be too much to ask?" He smiled a little and this time it sounded more like a request than an insistence.

Molly didn't want to be unhelpful although part of her didn't know why she was going along with this charade. A quick glance at Charles, however, convinced her that she knew exactly why she was going along with the story. She'd longed for the chance to get to know someone like him; someone a cut above anyone she'd met before and here was her opportunity staring her in the face and it was a particularly attractive opportunity. She rather liked the fact that he needed her assistance but the thought of meeting a bunch of strangers and telling a pack of lies worried her. "I'll probably put my foot in my gob."

He hesitated and then seemed to recover his sense of humour as he replied with a smirk, "Well, it's big enough if what you said in that bar the other night was true."

Molly's heart sank. Why couldn't she ever hold something back? She didn't need to share every unappealing aspect of her personality with him. He clearly found it amusing but he added on a more reasonable note, "I know that none of this is your fault and I suppose it's only fair in the circumstances that we fill you in on a few details but not now. Would you be able to meet me for a coffee or something tomorrow?"

Molly was surprised. She hadn't expected that. Although it sounded like he was arranging a business meeting with her, it was a start at least. Her heart was thumping in anticipation but telling herself to play it cool she pretended to think about it and then nodded, "Alright, I think I could manage late morning, say, eleven."

"Do you know the coffee shop opposite the theatre?" He asked

She nodded even though she'd never been there and didn't recall a coffee shop on that street or anywhere near the theatre, not that she and the theatre were well acquainted anyway. She'd passed it once a couple of weeks ago and hadn't been impressed by a quick glance at the programme she'd seen advertised on the wall outside. West End shows didn't feature and she'd never heard of any of the plays apart from 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' which brought back memories of boring English lessons which had been spent flicking paper at the boys in front of her while the teacher's back was turned. It didn't matter. She would find the place no matter what.

"Ok. Eleven o'clock it is, then," Charles confirmed. He nodded. "Goodnight."

He turned from her and moved towards the door, crossing the kitchen in a few long strides then out into the passageway and just before he reached the foot of the stairs he couldn't help glancing back over his shoulder. Molly was standing rooted to the spot, shoulders hunched, her eyes tightly shut and both her hands clenched into fists, the very picture of an excited small child. Astonished and amused in equal measure he resisted the urge to stop and stare but carried on his way stifling a laugh by calling out, "Sleep tight!"

Molly opened her eyes. She hadn't been able to stop a brief couple of seconds celebration as he'd walked away from her. She saw Charles about to climb the stairs to the hall. She smiled to herself. She'd played it cool and somehow she'd managed to arrange a meeting with him. She'd like to have called it a date but perhaps that was going too far. Nevertheless, tomorrow would bring her some time alone with him. Things were definitely looking up.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Charles replaced the coffee cup on the saucer and gazed out of the window watching the passers-by leaning into the wind and holding onto shopping bags which sudden gusts threatened to tear from their hands. He had arrived early. His father would be pleased with him he thought ironically, unlike yesterday evening. The General hated being late or having his arrangements disrupted but Charles couldn't help it. The urgent matter of Private Smith's compassionate leave request had to be addressed before he could leave barracks for the weekend. He would have expected his father to understand that such things happened in military life and it wasn't as if he hadn't called to let him know he'd be delayed. If he was honest he hadn't really wanted to go to the drinks party at all particularly as he didn't know the Allens. His father had met Brian Allen at the Golf Club that day and hearing that the General's son would be home at the weekend had invited them all to a small social gathering. He'd really only agreed for Emma's sake. It wasn't an easy life for her and now that he was stationed close to home he tried to get back as often as he could. They had always been close and in the last year she had come to rely on him more than ever.

The last thing he had needed last night on top of all the complications that seemed to beset his life at the moment was to discover this girl, Molly, was apparently resident at the Allens' house in some capacity and present at their party. She'd joked that she wasn't a stalker but it was certainly beginning to feel as if she popped up in his life with great regularity and now, mainly due to his spur of the moment remark, she'd become entangled in the web of the James family. It was his own fault but he hadn't really had a choice. The worried look on Emma's face when their father had asked how they had met Molly had been enough to convince him that he had to say something and quickly.

As for Molly, he smiled to himself, he couldn't help but be amused by her. She was an odd contradiction. He didn't think for a minute that she'd lived any kind of sheltered life. Her accent alone told him that she'd grown up somewhere a little less salubrious than Bath and her apparently robust defence of his sister the other evening had suggested that she wasn't the quiet type but there was still something strangely innocent about her that intrigued him. He had gained the impression that she was living a very different life here than one she had previously been used to and that many things must be something of a revelation to her. It had been a small revelation to him to realise the effect that the animated expression on her face, when she had been justifiably annoyed with him yesterday, had had upon him. He'd forgotten himself for a moment or two and just stared at her which she had noticed. He suppressed the urge to laugh at the memory of catching her looking clearly delighted by something and oblivious to having been seen when he'd glanced over his shoulder as he was leaving. At the time he had just thought she was a bit strange although it occurred to him now that it might have had something to do with him.

Yesterday evening he'd felt her eyes upon him once or twice and he really meant _felt_. He had somehow sensed he was being watched and strangely hadn't minded at the time. It wasn't particularly surprising that he had attracted her attention after the confusing verbal exchanges. She must have wondered if he was mad but now he wondered if there was something more to her attention and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. Although he saw no harm in her, he hardly knew her and wondered if closer acquaintance might well change his opinion. This last point was really the crux of the matter. They would have no choice but to get better acquainted at least for a short while. He'd involved her in their lives and he needed her help. He was going to have to ask her to keep a secret and that made him feel uncomfortable. He didn't know if he could trust her.

He glanced at his watch. It was five minutes to eleven. She would be here soon.

X-X-X-X

Molly caught sight of her reflection in the shop window as she passed and hoped that the gusty swirling wind wouldn't make her look as though she had been dragged through a hedge backwards. She had spent a long time getting ready to go out this morning including washing her hair and had been thoroughly annoyed to find the weather was so unseasonably bad. Mr Allen had commented on the forecast at breakfast saying that gales were expected. Tottering down the pavement with a gust of wind behind her Molly could only agree. Thankfully she'd had plenty of time for her preparations as she'd only had to get breakfast for Mr Allen. According to him, Mrs Allen was having a lie-in due to what he euphemistically referred to as 'being under the weather'. Molly wasn't surprised as Mrs Allen had drunk a little more than usual last night and seemed to be paying the price.

Last night had been a strange mix of surprise, confusion and short-lived elation. For some reason fate kept throwing Charles James into her path and part of her wanted to believe there was a reason beyond her comprehension for this happening although her common sense kept telling her it was nothing more than coincidence and signified nothing. She had taken this job in Bath reluctantly, having originally hoped that she would be seeing new places and having new exciting opportunities and it hadn't worked out that way, at least not until recently. Perhaps she was just to hoping for too much. It was fine when she was alone to idly imagine that someone like Charles might one day be interested in her but being here now was a very different matter.

Molly peered through the window of the coffee shop. Charles was sitting on a bank of seats on the left hand side. He was casually dressed in a shirt and light sweater and seemed to be staring into space, a serious expression on his face. Seeing that look, Molly paused for a moment to gather herself. She took a deep breath and wondered if she really knew what she was doing. For all she knew Charles might have changed his mind overnight and be about to tell her in the nicest possible way to back off. He had seemed a bit put-out yesterday that she'd agreed to go to the party. She glanced down and wondered if she'd tried to make too much effort. A strong gust of wind blew down the street causing her hair to fly up around her face, "Oh, shit," she cried trying to push it out of her eyes and flatten it down just as Charles looked round and saw her standing outside. He raised a hand as if to gain her attention. Still holding onto her hair with one hand she gave him a small nervous smile and pushed open the door of the coffee shop.

Charles stood up as she approached. "Good morning." He glanced at her windswept appearance and added, "Bit of a windy day out there."

"You can say that again," she said trying to make light of it. "I've never walked so fast."

He nodded. "What can I get you to drink?"

She wasn't particularly fond of coffee. The Dawes family were staunch tea drinkers but she didn't want to ask for that in a coffee shop particularly as she could see he was drinking coffee. "A latte, please."

He moved to the counter and stood behind another customer waiting to be served. Molly sat down and hastily tried to straighten out her hair hoping she hadn't looked a mess.

Standing at the counter, Charles glanced back at her. She looked nervous and she was trying to comb her fingers through tangled hair. In spite of that he couldn't help thinking that she looked quite pretty today and the emerald green top she was wearing suited her and matched her eyes. He'd noticed her eyes that night in the University bar. She'd been looking at him so intently that he couldn't help but notice them. She turned her head and caught sight of him watching her. He felt awkward so he smiled and was then thankfully interrupted by the barista taking his order. When he returned to the table carrying a latte for Molly and another drink for himself he saw that she was sitting in prim anticipation of his return and appeared to be on tenterhooks. It made him feel nervous. He told himself sternly not to be stupid. He was used to taking charge of situations and using his people skills in difficult situations. This might not be a war zone but he needed to be able to read the situation and respond appropriately and right now he knew the ball was in his court.

Placing the drink before Molly he said, "Thank you for coming."

She looked up and gave him a tight lipped smile. "That's alright."

He sat down opposite her, picked up the spoon and stirred his coffee taking the opportunity to gather his thoughts for a few more seconds before saying, "It's just struck me that we haven't ever been properly introduced." He held out his hand. "Charles James. How do you do?"

Molly was surprised and rather self-consciously reached out to grasp his hand. "Molly Dawes." His hand was warm, the grip firm and strong as his fingers briefly curled around her own before he released the pressure and let his hand fall away.

"I'm sorry about causing so much confusion last night," he began, "and I just wanted to say thank you again for going along with that story when it was sprung on you without warning. It's just that I was caught in a…delicate situation."

Molly frowned. "Delicate?"

"Well, awkward if you like," he replied. "I'd never met the Allens before last night, so I had no idea you…lived there."

Molly knew what he was trying to ask and decided to be up front and save him the trouble. "I work for them but they think of me a bit like a daughter. They're really quite kind." She paused. "That's why I didn't want you to say you'd seen me at The Assembly Rooms. They don't know about the other job and I didn't really want them to find out in case it upset them. It's just that I needed to earn some extra money."

There it was out in the open. She wondered if he would say anything or look a bit shocked. He raised his eyebrows at the news but passed no comment on it other than to say, "Then it seems we both have secrets."

He lifted his cup and drank some of the coffee. She did likewise but waited, wondering where the conversation would lead. He replaced the cup and then looked at her directly. "My father's a difficult man." A slight pause followed then he added, "He loves us all very much but he's used to being in charge and sometimes that means he likes to be involved in our lives a little more than most other people's parents."

He smiled faintly and Molly thought that he seemed sad. She thought about her own mum and dad and couldn't help wishing that occasionally they'd show a bit more concern about her life. Her mum loved her and she was sure that deep down she cared what Molly did but she had too many other children to deal with and once Molly had been able to manage reasonably well on her own she'd been allowed to do just that. Her Dad had never been a very effective father and only reluctantly undertook childcare duties if it was absolutely necessary. She thought he loved her but she wasn't always sure he had her best interests at heart. She wondered just what the General did that constituted being over involved.

"What about your mum?"

Charles shook his head. "She passed away almost seven years ago."

"I'm sorry," Molly replied. It was an automatic response, something that you always said no matter how long ago the event had taken place and she wondered if it really was of any comfort to someone to say it.

"Thank you," Charles said as if he appreciated the thought. "It was quite sudden and it came as a shock to us all but particularly to Emma."

Molly said nothing sensing there was something more to come. She was right.

"I was at Sandhurst and Emma was only thirteen at the time. It hit her hard. She was close to our mother and it made her very unhappy."

Molly nodded. "It must have been very difficult. Did she find it hard to get over it?"

He shrugged. "I think you learn to live with it rather than get over it. But Emma found it very difficult to live with for quite a while."

He was hedging the issue and he knew it but Molly sensed what he was trying to say and searching for the right expression she asked, "Was she ill?"

He nodded. "Yes. She needed help on and off for two or three years and then she started to get better and things slowly got back on track. It's been a long road and my father is very protective of her and worries about her a lot. But sometimes he worries too much." He fiddled with the coffee cup and seemed to be weighing things up. He was choosing his words carefully, trying to be diplomatic, after all he was discussing intimate details of his family with someone he barely knew but Molly had been quiet, listened and shown an understanding and he felt that he could trust her.

"The reason that I," he paused, "I meant 'we', didn't want you to mention meeting us at the University in front of my father is because my sister was meeting a friend there. A good friend."

Molly heard the emphasis in his voice and remembered the older man Emma had been with and the fact that Charles had arrived later and joined them.

"I see," she said although she wasn't quite sure what the problem was but she suspected Charles was about to tell her.

"Well, my father doesn't approve of him for a variety of reasons which I don't necessarily agree with. It's a complicated situation and my father doesn't actually know that Francois is studying here in Bath or that he came here deliberately to be near Emma." He fell silent allowing his words to sink in. He watched Molly's face. She was processing the information.

"So, you were covering for her last week when you came to the University," Molly surmised.

He nodded. "In a way…yes. She told my father she was meeting me and a couple of my friends in town, it's not the first time, and if I hadn't turned up to take her home he would have been suspicious. This cloak and dagger business is difficult and to be honest it doesn't sit well with either of us but Emma doesn't want to hurt my father any more than she wants to give Francois up, so for now, it's all we can do."

Molly was still and looked serious and he realised that she appreciated the situation.

"I'm afraid we've involved you in something of a family secret and now we're asking you to keep it for us. My father's keen to see Emma make new friends mainly because it's good for her to get out but also I suspect because he wants her to forget about Francois and I don't think that's going to happen. Why should she have to forget about someone she loves?" He gazed at her and his face finally broke into a smile after all the serious words. "You clearly made an impression on my father last night. He wouldn't invite just anyone to Harry's party, so I wondered if you could help us out by not talking about what you saw and playing along a little. We'd both be grateful."

Now Molly knew the whole story she realised that he was putting his faith in her and she was touched. She was genuinely sorry for Emma but also impressed by how kind and devoted Charles seemed. He was putting his own relationship with his father at risk by helping his sister but he was a mature man and she reasoned that he knew what he was about. She thought of Emma: quiet, hesitant, embarrassed by Jack Thorpe and possibly scared of her father or at least of his disapproval and realised how difficult it must be for someone who'd suffered so much to move forward with her life. Molly had come here today thinking only of it being a chance to spend time alone with Charles and she hadn't expected this. He was asking her to involve herself in their lives and she felt a strong sense that she wanted to help. How much of it was down to the fact that it was him asking, she couldn't tell but she knew there was no going back.

"I'd like to help. Thank you for telling me everything, although there is one thing I still need to know."

Charles frowned concerned that she'd want details he might not wish to disclose and said cautiously, "What?"

Molly's face broke into a smile. "Who's Harry?"

He was relieved and about to answer when he suddenly looked up and raising his voice said, "Well here's Emma. Why don't you ask her about Harry?"

Molly turned around to see Emma walking towards them. She saw the slightly nervous, questioning look that Emma threw Charles and his almost imperceptible nod in response and guessed that this has been pre-planned. He had obviously arranged for her to come along a little later after he'd had time to talk to Molly. She could understand why he had done it but couldn't help feeling a little deflated that there was to be no time to talk about anything else. However, remembering everything she had just heard and appreciating the difficulties of the situation, she smiled encouragingly and greeted Emma with a broad smile.

"Hi."

The girl smiled, nodded and replied, "Hello." before sitting down next to Charles.

"Molly was just asking who Harry is," Charles said.

"Oh," Emma answered, "He's our older brother."

The news surprised Molly a little as there had been indication yesterday that the General had a third child. "I see. So is the party for any special occasion?"

Charles and Emma exchanged knowing glances before Charles said, "It's his birthday and he always likes to hold a big bash somewhere down here even though he lives in London now."

Emma joined in. "He invites lots of his friends down for the weekend and puts them all up."

Molly began to appreciate that Harry must have a good job to go to such expense. "What does he do in London?"

Charles sat back in his seat and stretched out his legs in front of him. "Oh, he's the big success of the family. He has his own PR Company and we don't see him that often. In fact, he usually invites a lot of clients to his party as well, you know, business and pleasure." Molly sensed that Charles was faintly disapproving but he added in a lighter tone, "It's usually a very lively affair."

"It's lovely that you'll be coming, though," Emma said. "I sometimes feel a bit out of it at these big noisy parties. It'll be nice to have someone to talk to."

"Thanks!" Charles said turning to look at her with a tone of mock offence.

Emma reached out to touch him on the arm smiling. "You know what I mean and anyway, all the girls always want to dance with you, so you can't stand chatting to me all night."

He laughed, "That's not true."

Emma turned to Molly and said animatedly, "Oh, yes it is. You should have seen this girl last year. She was like a limpet stuck to him all night. Although, I think he quite liked it at the time."

Charles took the teasing well because it was good to see Emma looking happy and relaxed although he was slightly abashed. He remembered the girl in question, Sophie, all too well and Emma wasn't wrong in saying he hadn't minded. She was a client of Harry's and he'd seen her again after the party, in fact they'd had a thing for a few months but it hadn't worked out. She soon grew tired of the fact he wasn't in London or available to meet up at short notice and he soon realised she wasn't his type and had a fairly fluid interpretation of the word relationship. He'd been the one to call time on them and according to Harry she'd had the temerity to be pissed off about it, even though she'd moaned on a number of occasions that they didn't really see each other very often. He hoped she wouldn't be invited again this year or would at least have the sense to stay away because he didn't want to go down that road again.

"Don't believe a word of it," Charles said catching Molly's eye. "Perhaps I should stick around, Emma, and make sure you don't fill Molly's head with rubbish about me."

Emma looked at him in earnest. "I wouldn't do that. You know I wouldn't."

He smiled at her and said, "Yes, I know," before he turned to Molly. "Thank you again for everything."

He rose from his seat and Molly realised with a huge sense of disappointment that he was about to leave.

"I'll get out of your way and let you ladies chat and I'll see you again at Harry's party next week, Molly. Emma will fill you in with all the details."

He turned to his sister. "I'll catch you later, Emma. Have fun."

He walked across the coffee shop, opened the door and in a moment had disappeared down the street.

Molly really hadn't expected this and she was unprepared for a girly chat but knowing what Charles had told her and seeing Emma looking nervous but anxious to make friends she resolved to make an effort and get to know her. After all Charles had trusted her and she had committed herself to helping and she wouldn't let him down.

X-X-X-X

"It suits you," Emma assured Molly as she stood before the mirror in the dressing room.

"It's a bit bright isn't it?" Molly said doubtfully looking at her reflection and wondering if the scarlet red, figure-hugging dress was really something she could contemplate wearing to Harry's party.

"No," Emma said, "It looks lovely with your dark hair. You can carry that off. I couldn't wear it with my colouring."

Molly turned to look at her. Emma was right that the dress might be too much with her auburn locks and fair skin but it did fit Molly very well and she liked the dress but not the price tag. She hadn't gone out that morning expecting to end up clothes shopping with Charles' sister but it had turned out to be fun. Emma might be quiet and a little reserved but she didn't lack a sense of humour and Molly was finding her good company. She was interested in Molly and enjoyed hearing about her family and her life in London. Over lunch she had talked a little about herself and her life in Bath being careful not to say anything about Francois and Molly diplomatically asked no questions. It seemed as if he she wasn't really doing anything at the moment although she confessed she would like to study Art at college but her father didn't want her leave home and she had no way of funding the study herself at present.

"I have to wait for a while," she said without elaborating further.

"Why don't you get a job in the meantime," Molly suggested, "It would give you something to do and you could save up."

Emma had shaken her head. "My father won't hear of that at the moment. He thinks it's better for me to just stay at home. He means it for the best." She smiled but Molly could tell she must find the situation frustrating.

"Anyway, " Emma said as brightly as she could muster, "It's lovely to make a new friend and Charles comes home as often as he can. I don't know what I'd do without him."

"You're very lucky. He must be a very good brother, " Molly said carefully.

Emma turned to look at her. "Oh, yes. He's been brilliant these last few years when things have been difficult. I missed him a lot when he was posted. He did several tours of Afghanistan and that was very hard. I worried about him all the time and I'm so glad he's back now, especially so close."

Molly couldn't help but feel envious. She was the eldest child in the Dawes family and had never really had that kind of relationship with any of her brothers or sisters. From what Emma said, Charles was very considerate and caring towards her and Molly didn't doubt it having seen a glimpse of them together in the University bar.

Now several hours later, Molly couldn't help feeling that Charles was fortunate too. Emma was a very different person to herself but Molly realised that she was kind and loyal and she couldn't help wishing that she had a sister like her too. She looked at herself in the red dress and turned to the left and right, viewing each angle to check that it showed her to her best advantage and sighed, "I don't know. It's nice but I don't think I should buy it. It's a bit expensive for something I'm not sure about."

Emma spoke up. "Then, let me buy it for you as a present."

Molly shook her head at once, "No. Thank you, but I really couldn't accept it. I only meant that it might be a waste of money if I didn't like it after I bought it." She felt embarrassed that Emma had wanted to buy it for her. The last thing she wanted was Charles thinking she was sponging off his sister. She went back into the cubicle and changed back into her own clothes. When she came out she found Emma looking pensive.

"I'm sorry if I've offended you, Molly. I just wanted to say thank you for a nice day. I know you probably weren't expecting to spend the day with me but you've been great."

Molly was touched. "I've really enjoyed it. I just didn't want you to go to any expense but I know you meant it kindly."

Emma wrinkled her brow in thought and then said, "Do you know, seeing you in that lovely green top reminds me of a dress I've got at home that I don't wear but I think it would really suit you. We're about the same size and it's such a waste. Why don't you come back to my house and try it on. You could borrow it if you like." She paused before adding, "My father's not there. He and Charles have gone out to some event this afternoon and evening but the housekeeper's there."

Molly was tempted. It was her day off and she didn't need to rush back to the Allens'. She couldn't help but be curious about the James' family home and she had to admit to herself that she had nothing to wear to Harry's party. Borrowing a little-used dress might be a good compromise. She nodded at Emma. "Alright, thanks."

Emma's face broke into a wide smile, "I'll tell you what. I'll ask Mrs Stephens if she can make us some dinner and seeing as you were so kind as to spring to my defence last week, how about we sit down and watch _Rebecca_ so you can see if you like it too."

Molly wasn't sure she was going to like another old black and white film but Emma's company was decidedly preferable to Jack Thorpe's any day of the week and combined with an invitation to Emma's house she couldn't really refuse.

"Ok. You're on."

X-X-X-X

"Well, well," Jack Thorpe said peering through the café window at the sight of Molly Dawes walking up Union Street in animated conversation with another girl of about the same age, "Look who it is."

Izzy leaned across the table and followed the direction of his gaze until she saw a familiar figure. "It's Molly but who's that with her?"

"I don't know," Jack replied. "But there's something familiar about her. I've seen her somewhere before."

"I didn't think Molly knew anyone else in Bath," Izzy said watching her friend disappearing out of sight. "Shall I text her and ask who's she's with?"

Jack had been wracking his brains. A girl with red hair. It had been a girl like her in the University union bar when he had been discussing films after they watched _Notorious_. It came to him at last. She was the girl who had made the preposterous suggestion that _Rebecca_ was better than _Gaslight_ just before Molly had waded in and made him look an idiot in front of everyone. Well this was a turn up for the books. It seemed as if Molly knew this girl and from the look of her, the way she was dressed and the multitude of shopping bags she was carrying, she probably wasn't a student or if she was then she was at least one who was rather well-off. He hadn't forgotten Molly's words and he'd had the piss taken out of him on a number of occasions this week thanks to her. In spite of it all he couldn't help feeling attracted to Molly which made his embarrassment at her hands all the more humiliating.

"Don't text her, Izzy," he said. "It's none of our business if she wants to make grander friends than us."

Izzy stared at him. "What do you mean 'grander'. Watch out or you'll sound jealous."

He scoffed and pulled a face at this. "Jealous? Don't be stupid." However, seeing the red-haired girl again had reminded him of that moment in the bar. He didn't like someone making a fool of him the way Molly had. He would bide his time until a suitable opportunity arose and make sure that he had the last word on the subject.

 _ **Thank you again for reading and all your lovely comments. I'm doing my best to update as quickly as I can but things were a bit busy over the Easter period so I didn't get as far ahead as I would have liked. Please bear with me. I'll try to keep it moving along as much as I can.**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Emma had been right. The dress looked fabulous. Molly stared at herself in the mirror, smoothed the material over her hips with the palms of her hands and could hardly believe the sight reflected back at her. Now that her hair was styled, her make up applied and she had added shoes, accessories and a bag she looked completely different. The dress was expensive and well-made and the single word that came into her head was 'classy'. That was it. She saw looked in the mirror and instead of seeing east end Molly Dawes she saw class staring back at her and almost laughed out loud. If her mum and dad could see her now they would be astonished. She actually thought her mum might shed a tear to see her transformed like this and wondered for a second whether to take a selfie and send it to her for a laugh but she thought better of it. She wasn't going to a fancy dress party. This was something different than she was used to and she meant to behave with a measure of decorum.

She had tried the dress on in Emma's bedroom at the James family home. Their house was very similar to the Allens' being a pale Bath stone town house located only a few streets away and the layout was familiar to Molly. The interior was very formal and traditional and Molly sensed that the furnishing and décor had been chosen with care to complement the house and its regency architecture. Emma's bedroom on the second floor was large, tastefully furnished and comfortable. The full length rectangular windows allowed the late afternoon sunshine to flood the room and bathe it in a warm glow. Emma seemed happy to show her new friend everything and once Molly had tried the dress on and been persuaded to borrow it for the party, Emma took her on a short tour pointing out the rooms on each floor including Charles' bedroom. "He only uses it on weekends if he's here or on leave. He used to have a flat off base when he was up at Catterick but since he came back from Afghanistan and is only stationed near Warminster he just stays in barracks in the week and comes back here when he's off duty for any length of time."

Emma took her down to the kitchen and introduced her to Mrs Stephens, the housekeeper, who said she would rustle up some dinner for the girls before Emma led her off to a small room in the basement overlooking the garden which had been set up as a TV room. It was cosy and comfortable and far less imposing that the rest of the house.

"My father hates the idea of a television in the lounge upstairs," Emma told her. "So, if we want to watch films or anything we come down here out of his way. I like it down here." She paused before adding, "It was my mother's idea. She wanted the children to have somewhere to relax."

It was the first time Emma had mentioned her and Molly, conscious of the situation after the conversation with Charles this morning, simply smiled and nodded without comment. They sat and chatted for a while and then Mrs Stephens brought them through some dinner on a tray and drinks and Emma said with a giggle, "This is something else my father hates. He insists on us having dinner in the dining room. He's very formal like that."

Molly wasn't sure she liked the sound of the General very much. She'd only met him briefly yesterday and most of the time he'd been engaged in conversation with Brian and Janet and their guests. However, since then Charles had referred to him as a difficult man who it seemed interfered in their lives and, according to Emma, he was quite a stickler for rules and tradition which Molly supposed was due to his military background. It seemed as if life with him was far from relaxed and she felt sorry for Emma yet again.

Emma wandered towards the television and started searching through the DVDs until she found what she was looking for and held it up to show Molly.

" _Rebecca_ . I know it's an old film but I just love it." She bent down and put the disc into the player. Molly was curious. Emma and Jack Thorpe couldn't be more different but they seemed to share a love of old black and white films even if Jack had claimed to be less than impressed by this one.

"What do you like about it?"

Emma stood up and shrugged. "I suppose I feel sorry for Mrs de Winter. It's not easy feeling that people judge you or you can't live up to their expectations. Mind you, I like Laurence Olivier too and Mrs Danvers is very sinister. It's quite a dark film." She paused and bit her lip, trying to suppress a laugh as she said, "I first saw the film when I was about ten and I used to imagine that Abbey House was Manderley." She saw the blank expression on Molly's face. "I'm sorry I ought to explain. Manderley's the name of the house in the story and we've got a holiday home in Cornwall too called Abbey House. My father likes to go there every summer for about six weeks. It's a bit unusual because it's on a small island."

Molly was impressed. "An island? Do you have to go there by boat?"

Emma nodded. "Yes. Well, not always. There's a causeway that you can walk or drive across at low tide but when the tide comes in you can only get over to Northanger by boat."

Molly was torn between being envious of someone owning a holiday home on an island although in her opinion Majorca would be preferable, and thinking it must be very boring being stuck there and cut off by the tide coming in twice a day. She also wasn't very fond of water as she couldn't swim and the idea of being dependent on a boat didn't appeal. However, she opted for the diplomatic response, "That must be lovely."

Emma's face clouded a little. "Well, I used to enjoy it but not so much in the last few years. In fact, I dread it a bit especially since Harry and Charles left home and now there's only my father and me. We used to go more often but my father isn't so keen now…" she trailed off and Molly felt sure she was thinking about her mother. That was what she had really meant. She clearly missed being there with both her parents and Molly wasn't surprised that she didn't look forward to going if it made her feel sad and lonely. She could see that Emma was thinking about it and feared she might start to feel sad about the past.

"Come on," she said injecting as much enthusiasm as she could into her voice, "Let's watch this creepy film. I could do with scaring myself shitless."

Emma stared at her in surprise and then burst out laughing, "Alright, I hope it won't disappoint you."

She came over and sat down on the sofa, pressed play and the opening strains of the title sequence began.

The film had entertained Molly more than she had expected and she understood Emma's empathy for second Mrs de Winter, being a young woman thrust into a different life in which she felt ill at ease. When it had finished Molly had agreed that it was a good story and she had enjoyed it. In fact the whole day had turned out well and she found herself looking forward to, rather than dreading, the party next weekend.

The rest of the week, however, had passed quite slowly. On Tuesday evening Molly had worked on another function at The Assembly Rooms and for the first time found herself in the company of Izzy, Jack and Jimmy during proceedings. It transpired that Jack had previous catering experience having had a summer job a couple of years ago in a hotel and he quickly settled into the routine and considered himself in possession of superior skills having worked as a silver service waiter. To Molly's annoyance he seemed to find as many opportunities as possible to hang around near her for reasons best known to him, and try to pick her up on small details. He had the annoying habit of sidling past her and uttering stupid comments such as, "You need to fill that glass over there," or "don't forget to collect the plates." She had no idea why he kept doing it. He wasn't in charge. It was pointless and it was winding her up. Jimmy, by contrast, was a complete novice and was relying heavily upon Izzy to tell him what to do at each point in the evening. Molly could only assume that Izzy had lied to Andy at Prestige about his previous experience just as easily as she had bent the truth about Molly's. Watching Jimmy at work however, it was obvious to Molly that quite a few ladies in the room would be willing to forgive him any number of mistakes including spilling drinks and dropping cutlery. All he had to do was give them one of his charming smiles and they seemed completely won over and oblivious to his bumbling around.

At the end of the evening as she was fetching her coat ready to make her way back home, Molly saw Jack approaching and tried to hurry off pretending she hadn't noticed him but he called out, "Molly!" She had no choice but to stop and he caught up with her. "Have you made up your mind about _The Third Man_ yet?"

Molly remembered the invitation from last week but she had no intention of going to the screening and certainly not with him. "Sorry, I can't make it."

He fixed her with a suspicious look. "Busy elsewhere?"

She didn't think that what she was doing was any of his business but she answered simply, "That's right."

He didn't seem particularly surprised, shrugged and muttered, "Please yourself."

At that point Izzy appeared from the cloakroom and came towards them both asking if Jack had mentioned the film tomorrow. Molly nodded. "Yes, but I can't come."

"Oh, that's a shame. Are you going out?"

Molly shook her head. She was conscious of Jack still standing next to her. "No. I've got stuff to do for the Allens." It was a lie and she was sorry to put Izzy off although recently she'd spent so much time hanging around with Jimmy that Molly was mostly left on her own or forced to keep Jack company which she thoroughly disliked.

"Never mind, then," Izzy said as if she had already forgotten about it and moved on, "I suppose we'll see you at the weekend."

Molly looked blank and Izzy said, "You're on the rota aren't you?"

Molly had called Andy and told him she couldn't work at the weekend, citing family reasons for not being available. He'd not been pleased as the end of term was looming on Friday, lots of students were going home for the summer holidays and he relied heavily upon them to make up his workforce during the year. He'd tried to twist her arm and used some emotional blackmail but she'd maintained that it was impossible and he'd rather grudgingly conceded.

"The Allens have got something on that night, so I can't make it."

"That's a pity, " Izzy said, "Andy had to offer time and a half to everyone because he was so short of staff. You'd have done all right. Are you sure you can't make something up and work anyway. The Allens won't know."

Molly shook her head. "Sorry, it's really important. I just can't." She thought for the sake of appearances she ought to sound more annoyed about it than she really was and added, "Shame to miss out on the money though."

"Yes," Jack remarked drily, "I expect you need it, now."

Molly frowned. She'd never said she hadn't got a need for extra money or she wouldn't be working for Prestige but Jack seemed to be implying there was some other reason. However, she was loathe to ask him what he was talking about. He'd irritated her all evening and she didn't want to engage in any more conversation than necessary.

"Everyone needs money, don't they? Even you, Jack." With that she said goodnight and left, determined to forget about it. She wasn't being truthful about her reasons for not working but she didn't have to explain herself to them.

Now dressed up and ready to go out on Saturday evening Molly felt a nervous flutter of anticipation. She'd never been to anything like this before. Emma had told her the party was taking place at a hotel just outside the city centre and, knowing how nervous she felt herself at such events, she had kindly offered to call round to pick Molly up so that she didn't have to arrive on her own.

As Molly descended the stairs just before half-past seven, Mrs Allen happened to come out of the lounge and catching sight of her said, "My goodness, you look beautiful, dear. What a lovely dress."

Molly was flattered and pleased especially when Mrs Allen called, "Brian, come out here and take a look at Molly."

Mr Allen duly appeared at the lounge door and did a second take before smiling broadly and uttering, "Charming, Molly. Really, charming. Have a lovely time."

At that moment there was a knock at the door and Molly, knowing it would be Emma, went to answer it calling out to the Mr and Mrs Allen, "I expect I'll be late but I've got my key."

They smiled benevolently almost like proud parents and Molly was touched that they seemed so pleased for her. She reached to undo the catch and pulled the door open.

Expecting to see Emma on the doorstep, Molly was startled to be met instead by the sight of Charles looking cool, calm and collected in a tailored tuxedo that she couldn't help thinking, even in the brief second it had taken her to process the sight of him, was 'the nuts'. He saw the surprise on her face and said quickly, "My father insisted that Emma go with him but she was quite rightly adamant that I come round and pick you up, so here I am and your taxi awaits." He gestured towards a vintage blue sports car at the kerbside below. Molly was sorry not to see Emma but she couldn't help thinking that the General had unintentionally planned it very well indeed. As much as she liked the company of her new friend, she wouldn't mind a few minutes alone with her brother.

Overcoming her surprise Molly smiled at Charles and he gazed back at her his eyes flicking over her from top to toe and said very gallantly, "You look delightful, Molly."

She wanted to giggle at the word 'delightful' but she had determined to behave with class and decorum this evening and instead she said, "Thank you" and stepping outside and shutting the door behind her she descended the steps to the pavement and allowed Charles to open the car door for her, taking care to glide into the seat as elegantly as she could. It wasn't something she was used to doing and it was a more difficult than she had anticipated as the car was very low to the ground but she managed without embarrassing herself and if she had looked as though she was wriggling a bit, Charles appeared not to notice. He walked around to the driver's side, slipped in alongside her and shut the door. Molly looked around the interior of the car. The seats were leather, the dashboard alien to her eyes and reminded her of something out of an old James Bond film. She couldn't help saying, "What sort of car is this?"

He turned to look at her, "A 1960 MGA Roadster."

Molly couldn't help gawping, "You're driving around in a fifty year old car?"

"Not very often," he replied. "And I only use it in good weather and on special occasions."

Molly was tempted to ask if this was a special occasion but didn't want to push her luck instead she said, "You don't use it much in this country then, I'll bet." She was thinking of the weather.

He shrugged and reached for the ignition. "Perhaps not. But it was a twenty-first birthday present from my mother, so every time I drive it feels like a special occasion."

Charles turned the key and the engine roared into life. The car pulled away from the kerb and he deftly manoeuvred his way through the evening traffic in Bath and out onto London Road. It was a beautiful evening. People were strolling in the sunshine, enjoying a drink or meal sitting at one of the pavement bars and restaurants in town and for a brief moment Molly could imagine that she was actually abroad somewhere as she had hoped when she had taken the job with the Allens, although at this moment she was more than happy to be here and sitting next to Charles. He wasn't saying very much but she supposed that the noise of the engine precluded conversation and she didn't want to shout. She sat back and enjoyed the feel of speeding along in the little car and the rather nice scent of his cologne that drifted towards her every so often. It wasn't far and as they turned off the main road and onto a driveway that led up a hill Molly caught her first sight of the hotel bathed in a golden glow of a summer evening.

Charles brought the car to a halt with a spray of gravel and Molly could see a large white marquee open on one side which was set out on the lawns below a terrace on which guests were gathered. From within the marquee came the sound of music playing and Molly glimpsed a band at one end with a dance floor laid out in front of them and around the edge white cloth-covered tables decorated with silver and blue helium balloons bearing a design of some kind that she couldn't identify. The balloons floated above the tables almost bobbing in time to the rhythm of the music. There were already guests inside the marquee and at least one brave couple could be seen on the dance floor.

Charles opened the car door for Molly and she slid around placing her feet onto the ground after remembering something she had once heard about keeping her knees together and thought that she had executed the manoeuvre quite well. Charles gestured to the building. "I expect we'll find Harry inside. Shall we?"

Molly followed his lead and walked alongside him up onto the terrace where other people in an array of evening wear were assembled. They had only walked a couple of paces towards the main building when they were halted by the approach of a dark-haired man of about thirty, dressed in a flamboyant burgundy tuxedo which stood out in a sea of black suits. He was a little shorter and broader than Charles but Molly could see the family likeness immediately. He was grinning broadly and called out in clear voice that carried, causing heads all around to turn, "Charlie boy!"

Molly glanced up at Charles. If he was embarrassed by his brother's attention-grabbing welcome, it didn't show. Harry reached them and immediately embraced his younger brother, pulling him into a big bear hug and clapping him on the back. "Good to see you. How's the army treating you?"

Charles was nodding. "Well. How's life in the fast lane?"

"Mustn't grumble," Harry said with a wink. Glancing over Charles' shoulder he caught sight of Molly standing nearby. "And who's this? You didn't mention you would be bringing a guest."

Molly felt awkward. It was obvious that Harry thought she was Charles' date. She wondered if she ought to say something or Charles would set him straight but as Harry released his grip, Charles said nothing and turning towards Molly said, "Molly, let me introduce you to my brother, Harry."

Molly smiled. "Hello and Happy Birthday."

Harry laughed, stepped forward and to her great surprise leaned across and kissed her on both cheeks, "Hello, Molly. Very kind of you." He glanced at Charles. "You kept this quiet,"

Molly felt that she absolutely had to say something now. "We're not actually together, we're just…." She paused unsure what to say and Charles added without hesitation, "Friends."

Harry looked from one to the other with a knowing smirk on his face that suggested he thought they were being coy and said with obvious amusement, "Have it your own way." He gestured around him. "Dancing and entertainment are in the Marquee and there's a bar in the main building. Dad's in there with Emma. Something's got his goat tonight but I expect you'll be able to smooth things over as usual, Charles. You're always so good at that. Get yourselves a drink, there should be champagne doing the rounds."

At that moment someone called his name and Harry turned to see a man waving at him. "Sorry, have to go. New potential client and I'd really like to get them on side. Big contract in the offing. I'll catch you both later."

He walked purposefully in the direction of the hotel and Charles turned to Molly. "Well, that's Harry. Always on the ball and he never misses a trick. A big hit with the ladies too I hear although it'll take the devil's own job to tie him down." Molly couldn't decide if there was a hint of envy in his voice. He took a deep breath. "Come on, let's go in and get a drink." He ushered Molly towards doors that led from the terrace into the main building and they joined the others beginning to gather there in groups drinking, chatting and laughing. Molly wondered how many of them were really friends of Harry and how much of this was about business.

As they entered the building, Molly caught sight of Emma on the far side of the room, standing next to her father who was in deep conversation with another man. She was elegantly dressed in a black gown but Molly couldn't help thinking it was quite a sombre colour and the expression on her face suggested she was bored and ill at ease. It struck Molly that it must be difficult for her to have to attend family events like this without Francois. It was only natural that she would feel lonely and Molly was determined to cheer her up somehow. Charles had spotted his father and sister too and was about to lead her towards them when his attention was caught by a tall, blonde-haired beauty with a model girl figure, clad in a full-length, low-cut sapphire blue gown. "Charles," she purred bearing down on him at rapid speed, eager to catch him up. "It's fabulous to see you, darling, and looking so well." The woman leaned towards him and kissed him on each cheek.

Charles looked sheepish. "Sophie, how…nice."

She pulled a face of mock disappointment. "That's not very gallant of you, Charles. You could try to sound more pleased to see me and anyway, there's someone here with me I'd love you to meet." She turned her head and raised her hand waving at a young man with long dark hair swept back into a pony tail, a Mediterranean complexion and exquisite taste in clothes. "Fabio!" the young man either couldn't or didn't want to hear her and she grasped Charles by the arm saying, "Oh Come over and meet him, you'll love him."

Charles cast a small shrug in Molly's direction and said quietly, "Excuse me. I'll be back."

Molly didn't know whether to be amused by the incident or distraught that Charles appeared to have fallen into the clutches of this woman who she assumed was the Sophie mentioned by Emma a week ago. She was actually slightly offended that he had given way so easily to the woman's persuasion and watched him disappearing across the terrace with a strange sinking feeling. Whatever the circumstances of his departure she was now standing by herself and determined to cross the room to Emma straight away, even if it would mean risking conversation with the General, whose personality and reputation were growing more fearful to her by the day.

She started across the room and was a third of the way there when she was addressed by a waiter.

"Champagne, madam?" Molly paused and turned her body fractionally, her eyes still cast in Emma's direction as her hand reached out to take a glass from the tray that she could see out of the corner of her eye.

"I thought you were busy." The tone of accusation in the voice was obvious.

With a shock of recognition Molly turned her head to the right and her fears were confirmed. Standing next to her bearing a full tray of champagne glasses and with a far from amused expression on his face, was Jack Thorpe.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Charles walked away from Sophie with a big grin on his face. He was relieved. When Harry had sent him a text that afternoon to give him a heads up that Sophie would be attending and was keen to see him he had been worried. He hadn't minded going to fetch Molly from the Allen's house if it delayed his arrival at the hotel by another half hour and he'd thought arriving with someone might be a useful way of putting Sophie off the scent. However, when Sophie, with her eagle eye, had spotted him and torn across the terrace to ensnare him he'd been even more anxious. The presence of Molly hadn't appeared to have had the slightest effect upon Sophie's ardour. Ten minutes later, however, he breathed a deep sigh of relief and thought that the party could really get started now that he had been introduced to Sophie's youthful fiancé, Fabio. He'd done the decent thing, of course, and wished them every happiness but he couldn't imagine it would last. However, it wasn't his concern. His concern this evening was something very different and surprising to him.

The moment, Molly had opened the door at the Allen's house he had been struck by how wonderful she looked. He had noticed she was pretty last week but hadn't really thought about it much during a rather tedious week that involved a three day exercise on Salisbury Plain in inclement weather and which had, according, to his commanding officer, been a 'piss-poor' show. Having received a roasting and then duly blasted his platoon leaders in turn, he hadn't looked upon the planned activities this weekend with any great enthusiasm. However, Molly's transformation had been a revelation. The dress was wonderful and it clung attractively in all the right places. He hadn't been able to say much on the way to the hotel, partly because he was rather conscious of her sitting next to him and partly because he was nervous about encountering Sophie again. The fact that he could now forget about Sophie altogether put a very different perspective on the evening and he returned to the main building, eagerly anticipating seeing Molly again and enjoying himself.

He soon spotted Molly standing with Emma and his father. He approached with a broad smile directed at all of them but he made an effort to catch Molly's eye. She looked nervous and he felt sorry for her. He'd put her in a difficult position with the secret he and Emma shared and she was being brilliant. Emma had told him how nice Molly was and what a good day they'd had last Saturday and he was really pleased.

"So, you made it back alive, then, Charles." The General addressed him in a tone of dry amusement.

"As you see," Charles replied clearly at a loss to know what his father was talking about.

"So, what do you make of all this?" the General said turning to Molly, "A big waste of money on something that happens every year in a person's life or an investment?"

Molly glanced around her; she really didn't know what to make of Harry's party. It was unlike anything she had ever attended before.

"A bit of both, I suppose," she replied to the General wishing she could say something clever but her mind really wasn't on the matter. In fact, her mind was somewhere else entirely.

The moment she had heard Jack Thorpe's voice all expectations of a good evening had disappeared. She had swung around to face him shocked by his presence but then it had all made sense. When Andy at Prestige had asked if she could work on a function on Saturday she had told him the answer was no straight away without asking any details and the last thing she had wanted to do on Tuesday was get into a conversation with Izzy and Jack about Saturday night. The hotel had hired in additional staff from Prestige to work on the party and Izzy, Jimmy and Jack were here. She'd lied about what she was doing and they'd found her out. When Jack sneered, 'I thought you were busy,' she was immediately defensive.

"So what? It's my business if I've been invited to a party."

Jack narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. "Oh yes, I agree. But you didn't want us to know for some reason. Apparently, it's the brother of your friend over there who's hosting the party."

He nodded in the direction of Emma. "Looks like she's with that old chap. Must be a bit of a habit with her. Last time I saw her she was with another older bloke at the University, wasn't she?"

Molly was annoyed at his words but hearing that Jack had recognised Emma and remembered where he had seen her before concerned her. "That's her father."

Jack pretended to peer into the distance. "Now you say it, she does look a bit like him. Perhaps, as we've met before, I should go over and introduce myself. It only seems polite. Perhaps I'll get an invitation too."

Molly couldn't tell if he was joking or not but the last thing she wanted was him drawing Emma's attention to the fact he was here or that he'd recognised her. It could lead to awkward questions.

"Please don't do that. You didn't really like her much anyway, did you?"

She sensed that Jack seemed to be enjoying himself and the fact that she had been wrong footed and felt awkward. "Oh, I don't know," he continued in a casual voice, "I didn't think she had any taste but she did at least seem to like films from the 1940's. It's something _we've_ got in common. That's a start, at least. I definitely think I should say hello when I've got a minute."

"Don't do that, Jack," Molly pleaded fearing he meant what he said. "She won't want to talk to you."

"She's a bit like you then, "Jack shot back at her with undisguised bitterness.

Molly sensed they were on dangerous ground and she needed to defuse the situation. "That's not true, Jack." With a great effort she smiled at him. "Look, I was invited because the General came round for drinks at the Allen's house last week. I didn't want to go on about it when you were all working, so I said I was busy. That's all. It's nothing to do with you and me."

She didn't know if her words had had any effect. He stared at her for a moment weighing it all up before saying, "So, would you go out with me, if I asked you?"

Molly couldn't tell if it was a genuine question or a challenge to test her. She stared at him, desperately trying to think of a suitable reply when she was saved by the approach of the Catering Manager instructing Jack to go out onto the terrace as more people were arriving. Molly took the opportunity to continue on her way across the room to Emma but she was very uneasy. The last thing she wanted this evening was Jack stirring up any trouble for either of them.

Emma had been delighted to see her and brightened up immediately when she approached telling Molly how lovely she looked. When the General had finished his conversation he had turned and greeted her very politely and asked her where Charles was. She informed him that a woman had dragged him out onto the terrace.

"Was she tall, skinny and blonde?" Emma asked.

Molly nodded.

"That's Sophie. Harry said she was here. It's rather rude of Charles to abandon you," Emma said with a frown.

"I don't think he meant to," Molly answered remembering the way the woman had got her clutches on him and wasn't listening to any protests. "She didn't really give him a chance."

The General had actually chuckled at this piece of news and said, "Looks like Charles will have to fight his way out, if all else fails."

Now that Charles was actually here and in one piece having escaped Sophie's hostage taking, he seemed far more relaxed than before and although oblivious to the conversation that had taken place before he arrived, he sensed that his father's mood had lifted and that he was somehow the source of his amusement. He accepted the remarks without further questioning. He didn't always understand his father's sense of humour but if in doubt it was best not to enquire. The question to Molly had been typical of the General in many ways. As much as Charles had always felt that Harry was somehow favoured, being the oldest and a success story, he was also conscious that his father sometimes disapproved of what Harry did. Although it was Charles who had followed in his father's footsteps in joining the army it was somehow harder for him to live up to his father's expectations He sometimes felt that Harry was forgiven some of his personal failings because he lived and operated in a world outside his father's experience. Every time Charles put a foot wrong, which wasn't thankfully very often, it felt as if a ton of bricks fell upon him. He could understand Molly's uncertainty at how to answer his father's question and said, "It's Harry's money and he knows his own business. I suppose whether he wants to waste it on a big celebration or uses it for business purposes is up to him. We should just be grateful to be invited. After all, it is a party."

He lifted his glass of champagne and gazing at Molly said, "Here's to a good evening."

The other's joined him in raising their glasses, " A good evening!"

X-X-X-X

At nine o'clock it was announced that the buffet was being served and the guests moved into the main building where an extravagant spread had been laid out and was being served from long tables at the side of the room. The guests formed a long queue patiently waiting to take their turn.

Molly tried to hang back. She had been keeping an eye out all evening and trying to hide herself as much as possible from the observation of Jack, Izzy and Jimmy which had meant moving around a great deal and on more than one occasion she had lost both Emma and Charles entirely or had to use excuses such as going to the ladies. It was shame she had to behave as if she had ants in her pants all the time as Charles was being very attentive to her, engaging her in conversation, introducing her to people he knew and generally taking a great deal of care to ensure that she had a good time. It was flattering and she would have enjoyed it if only she hadn't been on the watch for Jack all the time. She just didn't want Charles or Emma to notice him. It wasn't that she was ashamed of the fact that he, Izzy and Jimmy were her colleagues, after all the first time she had met Charles she had been serving at the Assembly Rooms and he clearly wasn't a snob about such matters, but she knew Jack's presence would put Emma on edge and spoil the evening for her and didn't want there to be any awkwardness with Charles. Jack had been in too much of a sulk on the evening in the university bar to pay much attention to Molly after she had balled him out for his rudeness to Emma but even if he hadn't noticed Charles on that occasion he was sure to have worked out who he was by now and she just wanted to stay out of his way altogether.

Now however, as the buffet was being served, the staff were out in force, serving from behind the table and assisting guests with plates, cutlery and drinks. Molly lined up in trepidation fearing that at some point she was going to come face to face with all of them. She didn't doubt that Jack would have told Izzy and Jimmy she was here but it wasn't Izzy and Jimmy that she was bothered about. They'd been too busy, wrapped up in each other on the evening in the university bar to pay any attention to anyone else and they didn't have an axe to grind. She sensed Jack's antipathy and in this current setting she feared it.

The queue was getting nearer the table and Emma was chattering away to her, oblivious to Molly's nerves, when from the end of the room came the sudden ear-splitting sound of shattering glass accompanied by the shocked squeal of a woman. Conversation died and every head in the room turned in the direction of the noise. Molly could just about make out the sight of Jimmy bending down over a pile of broken glasses on the floor now sitting in a pool of champagne with Izzy standing nearby looking strangely cross and the Catering Manager hastening through the guests to the scene. A tall brunette in a red dress with a plunging neckline was also bending down apparently trying to assist and to Molly's great surprise seemed to be dabbing at Jimmy with a hastily grabbed pile of napkins and showing massive concern for the fact that his trousers had been soaked by the champagne. She saw Jimmy glance up at the woman and was sure he was flashing her one of those 'forgive me' smiles that seemed to make women's hearts melt, although one look at Izzy's face suggested hers was turning to stone.

The Catering Manager directed Izzy to fetch a brush and some cloths but she stood rooted to the spot and when Jimmy stood up with the brunette still holding his arm and dabbing at him ineffectually she fixed him with an angry glare and Molly was sure she could lip read Izzy's words to Jimmy which appeared to be something like, "Fuck off," before she marched off without a backward glance. Jimmy looked sheepish. The Catering Manager seemed to be apologising left, right and centre and Molly, although sorry that her friends appeared to be causing trouble, wasn't sorry that by the time she reached the end of the table there was no sign of Jack or Izzy and Jimmy had disappeared, probably to dry his trousers, allowing her to sit down with Emma and Charles and enjoy her food in peace and quiet.

X-X-X-X

By half past eleven the buffet had been finished and cleared away and Molly hoped that the staff's duties would be drawing to a close soon She would be able to breathe a sigh of relief when Jack left and the risk of him causing trouble would finally have abated. Charles had momentarily wandered away to speak to an old friend and Emma's attention was being dominated by an earnest young man and woman engaged in an in-depth discussion about the theatre. Emma it seemed was fond of plays and they had found much in common to discuss. Unfortunately, Molly, who had only ever gone to the local pantomime once or twice on a school trip and had hated Drama at school, had nothing to add to the conversation. Finding herself at a loose end and looking about the room to see if Charles was on his way back and to her surprise and horror saw Jack Thorpe standing next to General James apparently deep in conversation. She couldn't imagine what they could be talking about but it appeared to be more than a request for a drink, plate or napkin. She didn't want Emma to see Jack and she couldn't risk Jack mentioning to the General that he had met Emma before.

Without a moment's hesitation she set out across the room towards them wondering if she could interrupt them somehow but also desperate to know what was being said. As she drew near she heard Jack saying, "I loved exercises on Dartmoor. I'm still considering joining up after university."

The General nodded, "I'm sure we could do with more intelligent, keen chaps like you."

He saw Molly approaching, "Ah, Miss Dawes. I understand you and Jack are acquainted. He's been telling me all about his time in the OTC, fascinating stuff. Keen to ask for a bit of advice on a military career." Molly glanced warily at Jack thinking that he was probably keen to ingratiate himself as well and she didn't doubt he knew the effect this was having upon her.

She smiled, "That's nice."

"Well, don't hesitate to ask if you need any more advice." The General nodded at Jack and then excused himself saying, "I'll leave you to it as I need to speak to that chap over there. Been trying to grab him all evening." He marched away and Molly turned to Jack.

"What are you doing?"

Jack looked totally innocent. "Asking him for advice. I saw his regimental tie and we struck up conversation. Do you have a problem with that?"

"You wanted advice about joining the army?" she said incredulously thinking of the amount of time Jack spent ensconced in his bedroom watching old movies. It didn't seem an activity compatible with being an aspiring army officer.

"I was in the University's Officer Training Corps," Jack said in response adding with a smirk, "For one term at least."

Molly tried to keep her cool. This was all part of a plan to wind her up and it was working.

"You didn't like me talking to him, did you?" Jack said, "Are you frightened I'm going to spoil things with your new friends." Thankfully, he still didn't know the significance of having met Emma on the night of the film screening and she was determined that he didn't get a chance to mention it.

She tried to dismiss the idea, "Don't be silly, Jack. I just thought you must know him, that's all."

He raised his eyebrows, "Well, I do now. Perhaps I'll ask him for some more advice later."

"You're not serious," Molly said, "so don't waste his time."

"Perhaps I'm not," he agreed, "But I am serious about asking you if you'll come out with me next week." He smiled at her and Molly realised she had been caught. She'd escaped the first request but he wasn't going to be put off entirely. She swallowed hard and realised that as much as she was loathe to agree to a date there was one way she could still use it to her advantage.

"Alright, but on one condition."

"Which is?"

"Stop bothering the General or the others. It's not nice to make fun of them." She tried to sound light-hearted and teasing but the fact that she'd said yes to a date was eating her up and she had a strong sense of foreboding.

Jack looked really surprised at her answer but much happier and Molly hoped that it had done the trick. He smiled and said, "OK, you win. Or maybe I win. Not sure. I'll see you around." He turned and hurried off and as she watched him go Molly could only mutter under her breath, "Not if I see you first."

X-X-X-X

Emma had been persuaded onto the dance floor by an elderly uncle who had insisted on doing a quickstep around the floor to an upbeat number in spite of the fact that everyone else was simply doing their own thing. Emma was laughing at something he said and Molly was glad to see her enjoying herself. It was a warm sticky night and quite hot under the canvas and she stepped outside, glad to have a moment alone and feel a breeze on her face. She felt as if she had been running the gauntlet this evening and was emotionally drained. She stood with her back to the canvas, listening to the music and trying to gather her thoughts. She thought she'd succeeded in shutting Jack up for the rest of the evening. She'd only seen him around once or twice in the last hour and he hadn't been anywhere near the General again. She didn't want to go on a date with him. He'd practically forced that upon her and he'd spoiled her evening as well. She'd get out of it somehow but if it kept the peace for now, then so be it.

"Here you are," she turned to see Charles approaching her and she smiled from relief as much as pleasure at the sight of him.

"I've been trying to find you for the last half hour."

"Sorry, I must have been chatting or something." She knew she had really been hiding from Jack as much as she could and in so doing had hidden herself successfully from him as well.

"Are you enjoying the party?"

Molly gazed at him and thought how much she would like to tell him the truth but she merely nodded.

"Where's Emma?" he enquired.

"Dancing with your uncle. I just came out to cool down."

"Ah, Uncle Gerald, "Charles said with amusement. "The ballroom king."

Molly couldn't help laughing, "Yeah, they were doing something strange on the dance floor in there."

"He taught Emma to dance when she was little, so he likes to take a turn around the floor with her when there's an opportunity. Good job he's here. She wouldn't dance with anyone else if they asked her."

"Doesn't she like dancing, then?" Molly asked thinking how good she had looked.

"Oh she loves it," Charles replied, "but there's only one person she'd really like to be dancing with here and there's no chance of him being invited."

The mention of Francois reminded Molly of why she had to keep Jack under control this evening. It was tedious but necessary.

"Will she be seeing him anytime soon?"

Charles shook his head, "No, he's got to go back to France for a while during the holidays. In fact he left yesterday and she was pretty down about it. Emma wanted him to stay around but it's complicated and he can't. It's going to be a long summer for her. Which is why it's all the nicer that you've become friends. I can see that you lift her spirits, Molly, and that's a good thing." To her surprise he reached for her hand in the darkness, held it for a moment and looking into her eyes said very softly, "Thank you."

Her heart missed a beat and she gazed back at him sensing a change in him. She wanted to say something but somehow knew it wasn't necessary.

The fast number ended and Charles said, "Would you like to dance?"

Molly couldn't imagine anything nicer. The band had just started up a slow romantic number and he was being so nice to her and so considerate. She nodded and still holding her hand he led her back into the marquee. They were half way to the dance floor when she saw Jack enter at the other end. She immediately let go of Charles' hand at the same moment that Jack clocked her and nodded in her direction and in that moment she couldn't see how she could possibly get away with having a slow dance with Charles under Jack's scrutiny without incurring his jealousy again. She stopped short. Charles looked back at her and she shook her head, "Sorry Charles, I've changed my mind about the dance. I'm a bit tired." It was a terrible excuse but he looked concerned and said "Are you alright, Molly? You seem worried about something."

She gave him as bright a smile as she could muster trying to hide the voice inside yelling that the evening had been a disaster from the moment she had arrived and Jack Thorpe had appeared. She had spent the all night trying to keep an eye on what he was doing, stop him from talking to Emma or her father, unsuccessfully in the case of the latter, and ending up agreeing to go on a date with him to keep the peace when all she had really wanted was to have a nice experience and enjoy the company of her friends. Having sensed the warmth towards her emanating from Charles, she couldn't believe her luck that some of her hopes were finally coming true only to have any enjoyment in that quarter thwarted. Jack's eyes were upon her and she had to make him believe that she had meant what she said about the date. Charles looked a bit disappointed that she hadn't wanted to dance with him and that she was being a bit standoffish but no matter how disappointed he felt it couldn't possibly compare with how she felt. She was so annoyed and frustrated that she could have cried.

"I'm absolutely fine," she replied, "Let's just sit down here." She pulled out a chair from the vacant table next to them and looking extremely ill at ease placed both her hands on the tablecloth and looked away from him. He was still standing next to her frowning.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked, sounding mildly put-out but trying his hardest to conceal it.

"No, thank you." Having nothing else to do, Charles sat down next to her and watched the other couples dancing.

Molly sat in frustrated silence until her attention was suddenly caught by the sight of a girl at the other end of the marquee, throwing her head back in laughter as a man's arm crept around her waist. She recognised the sound of the laughter and she knew the girl. Izzy was standing there and she had a drink her in hand. It was a sacred rule that Prestige staff didn't drink while working but Izzy was standing there for anyone to see, flouting the rules. Molly thought to herself that Izzy and Jimmy were being stupid but as the crowd around them cleared to Molly's astonishment she saw that the man with Izzy was Harry. He was leaning over her whispering in her ear and she started giggling. Molly looked about her from left to right but couldn't see Jimmy anywhere. Izzy was clearly enjoying Harry's attention and Molly was perplexed.

"What's the matter?" Charles said seeing her looking about and staring into the distance.

"It's a friend of mine, Izzy. I work with her sometimes," Molly said pointing towards her. Charles followed the direction she indicated, "She's with your brother."

Charles shrugged. "That's Harry. I told you the ladies like him."

"But Izzy's got a boyfriend and Harry's," she paused, not wanting to cause offence, "obviously interested." She thought of Jimmy, no doubt somewhere nearby and likely to walk in at any moment which would be embarrassing and judging by the way Izzy had reacted over the brunette and the broken champagne glasses, likely to get heated. "Perhaps you should have a quiet word and tell Harry."

Charles scoffed at this, "From where I'm sitting, it looks as though she doesn't mind the attention."

"But he's wasting his time."

Charles turned to look at her. "What bothers you most here? Is it the fact that my brother obviously finds this girl, Izzy, attractive and probably doesn't care whether she has a boyfriend or the fact that she's letting him chat her up and seems to be liking it?"

Molly stared at him, "It's the same thing isn't it?"

Charles gave a hollow laugh, "I imagine Izzy's boyfriend would see a difference and my talking to Harry won't change a thing. He's his own man and he'll do what he likes. Perhaps _you_ should talk to _your_ friend."

She wasn't sure if he was annoyed with her now. He certainly sounded as if he was losing his patience and from his point of view she probably sounded quite unreasonable. Molly continued to watch on tenterhooks that there would be scene at any moment but to her relief Izzy seemed to have at last realised that she was supposed to be working and giving Harry a playful push she stepped away and the tottered out of the marquee. Harry nonchalantly shrugged and turned to another woman nearby and must have asked her to dance as she stood up and followed him to the dancefloor and was soon draped all over him.

Charles saw all of this too but he'd seen it plenty of times before from his brother and it was no surprise. Harry flitted from one woman to the next. Sometimes they captured his attention for a little longer and there had almost been the hint of wedding bells on one occasion but as a rule, if something lasted more than two or three weeks it was unusual. What had surprised him tonight however, was Molly's highly changeable behaviour. When he had picked her up at the start of the evening from the Allen's house she had seemed nervous but pleased to be in his company and he'd been astonished by how attractive she looked but she'd been blowing hot and cold all evening with him. When they'd shared those few quiet minutes outside and he'd held her hand he was sure she'd been warming to him and seemed to want to dance with him. He'd been eagerly anticipating how it would feel to hold her close only to have his hopes dashed by her sudden change of mind before she was half-way to the dance floor. She was sitting here now, barely looking at him as if they were strangers. He couldn't deny that he was still attracted to her but if this was any indication of how she behaved on a date he didn't think he could cope with it.

The arrival of Emma thankfully put an end to the silence and she smiled on seeing both of them and came towards them enthusiastically.

"Why don't we all go out for lunch tomorrow? We could go for a nice walk afterwards. Uncle Gerald's just told me that Dad's out at the Golf Club tomorrow with him. You could make it couldn't you, Charles?"

Charles nodded. "I suppose so, I'm not due back until eighteen hundred hours." He shrugged without any great amount of enthusiasm. "Why not."

Molly thought ahead quickly. The Allens seldom got up before eleven o'clock on a Sunday and they usually ate brunch. She could prepare everything and lay it out in the dining room and get away by midday.

"Can you come too, Molly?" Emma said

She nodded. "Yes, I think so. I'd really like to." She tried to put as much emphasis and enthusiasm into the sentence as she reasonably could. Emma looked pleased and Charles smiled a little too.

"OK, that's settled then. We'll pick you up at noon."

Molly nodded glad that she would at least have a chance to spend some time with both of them away from here and all the irritations that had beset the evening.

X-X-X-X

It was very late and the party was drawing to a close. Charles and Emma had said they would be leaving soon and were doing the rounds to say their goodbyes to people they knew. As Molly didn't really know anyone she went to the ladies to kill five minutes before returning to the terrace to wait for them. To her surprise she saw Izzy sitting on a low wall towards the rear of the building near the staff car park. She was on her own and looked a little worse for wear. Molly assumed that the incident with the brunette had been the motivating factor in her decision to break the rules, have a few drinks and engage in a brief dalliance with Harry James. As much as she had been wanting to avoid her all evening, now that the party was practically at an end she took pity on her and wandered over.

"Are you alright, Izzy?"

Izzy glanced up at her, "Oh, I heard you were here but I didn't see you. I thought it was Jack having a stupid joke."

"No, I was here, alright." She didn't add that for all the fun it had been thanks to Izzy's brother she might as well have stayed at home.

"Have you got a lift home?" Molly asked.

Izzy nodded forlornly, "Jack drove. I'm just waiting for him and Jimmy."

"OK then, see you." Molly turned and started to make her way back to the terrace only to catch sight of Jack coming the other way with Jimmy in tow and calling out, "I've found him." As he did so saw Molly standing next to Izzy.

"Do you know what, I was just thinking, let's have a film fest tomorrow," Jack said. "I'll get in some beers and we can watch _The Maltese Falcon_ , _Spellbound_ and _The Big Sleep_."

Jimmy said very quietly, "OK," and looked hopefully at Izzy who nodded too but looked tired and glum in the half-light cast by the security lighting in the car park.

"You'll come too, won't you, Molly?"

Jack looked as though he expected it but Molly was determined to stand her ground although she wasn't going to lie this time, "I can't. I've been invited out for lunch with Emma and Charles."

Jack gave her a long look but said nothing apart from, "I've got to fetch my jacket and keys, I left them inside" He turned away from her and she supposed that he was begrudgingly accepting the situation. She'd agreed to a date with him to deflect his attention away from the General and Emma but it didn't mean he could stop her doing other things that she wanted to do.

Izzy looked very tired, probably the combination of a lot of time on her feet and the drinks she had ill-advisably consumed and Jimmy, against his better judgment knowing that he wasn't Izzy's favourite person of the moment had put his arm around her. There appeared to be an uneasy truce between them. Molly decided to leave them to their own devices hoping that she might finally be able to grab a little of Charles attention without fear of sudden interruption when they had gone.

"I'm going now, " she said to Izzy and Jimmy and prepared to go back to the hotel when Jack reappeared with his jacket and car keys in his hand.

"Molly, I saw the General in there and I told him you were getting a lift back with us, so you didn't need to hang around until the bitter end."

"Pardon?" Molly said wondering if she had heard him right.

Jack repeated, "It's OK I saw the General speak to that chap, the one you were sitting with in the Marquee before and he said it was fine and he quite understood, so don't worry. Come on, let's go."

Molly was incensed. Without a word she turned on her heel and ignoring Jack's shout ran back into the hotel. She searched everywhere but couldn't see Charles, Emma, Harry or the General anywhere in the building. She ran out into the marquee but there were now only a few stragglers there and the band was packing up.

Molly knew that Charles and Emma weren't staying overnight. Charles had brought his car and he hadn't been drinking. She made her way out to the guest car park at the front of the hotel wondering if she might catch them there only in time to see the red tail lights of the distinctive MGA disappearing down the drive with Charles and Emma in the front seats. Her heart sank. Charles must have taken Jack at his word and thought she had sent the message. Molly walked back round the building to the staff car park and found everyone still assembled where she had left them. She glared at Jack, seething at what he had taken upon himself to do without asking her but he seemed unperturbed by the expression on her face and turned around to help Jimmy haul Izzy to her feet.

With Charles and Emma gone Molly had no choice but to go home with the others. At least, she reasoned, Jack would have to drop her off first and she wouldn't have to be alone with him. She was determined, however, to say nothing on the way home unless she absolutely had to.

Molly maintained the silence for the entire ten minutes it took to drive back and when they reached the Allen's house, she got out of the car as quickly as she could.

"See you tomorrow, Molly, about one o'clock." Jack called.

Molly shook her head. "No you won't. I told you, I'm going out for lunch tomorrow."

"Oh, I forgot to say," Jack called in a voice which sounded suspiciously as if he had deliberately forgotten, "When I gave that chap the message that we were taking you home I also told him you'd forgotten about coming round to ours tomorrow so you wouldn't be able to make lunch."

It was all Molly could do not to reach out, grab him by the throat and throttle him as she said, "You did what?"

"I told him you can't make it tomorrow. That's all." There was a hint of arrogance in his voice as he said it and she was sure he'd done this to annoy her.

"How dare you?" She cried, "You had no right to do that. What will they think of me?"

Jack pulled a face that seemed to imply she was making far too much of it all. "Don't worry," he said as if he hadn't got a care in the world, "that chap, Charles, said, and I quote, _I'm not bothered_."

Before Molly could say another word, Jack revved the engine and pulled away leaving her standing alone in the darkness on the pavement shaking with anger but behind the anger lay something else; utter despondency. Jack had single-handedly ruined her evening from the moment she arrived until the moment she left and now he'd spoiled her plans for tomorrow as well. She couldn't imagine what Charles must have thought when Jack informed them she was going home with him and she wasn't going out to lunch with them as she'd agreed, although she suspected he'd have been pretty annoyed and thought her very rude.

It was very late but she had to do something. She reached into her bag and took out her phone. Emma would probably still be up. She called her and waited as the phone rang and rang until it went to voicemail and she realised it must be turned off. She hastily left a message saying there'd been a misunderstanding and she did want to go out for lunch tomorrow and would call again but she wondered if it was all too late and the damage had been done.

She turned towards the house with a heavy heart and as a clock somewhere in the city chimed two she wondered if Jack had not only scuppered her plans for tomorrow but ruined any chance with Charles as well. The words that kept ringing in her ears were, "I'm not bothered."

 _ **Well, that turned out to be an unexpectedly long chapter. Apologies everyone if it was a bit rambling. Oh dear, is it too late to patch things up with Charles or will Jack get his way?**_

 _ **Thanks for the interest and reviews, everyone, I really appreciate the support.**_


	7. Chapter 7

**_Well, I can see that the despicable Jack Thorpe's antics have certainly riled some of you and I couldn't help chuckling at all the threats to his personal safety! I actually wondered if he had turned out a bit too unpleasant but having had another read through parts of Northanger Abbey this week I have to say that Jane Austen doesn't make the regency John (Jack) Thorpe very nice at all! Thank you so much for your reviews and comments and apologies for the delay in updating but I had to take a bit of a breather to recharge my batteries. So, as we left her at the end of chapter six, poor Molly had suffered a most vexing evening and it seemed as if all her hopes had been dashed…_**

 **Chapter Seven**

Molly had no need of her alarm clock. She had barely slept and when she had dozed off for a short period she had been plagued by disturbing dreams in which she was trying to speak to Charles or Emma but Jack Thorpe was constantly drowning her out by shouting so loudly that her friends were both oblivious to her presence. Despite not getting to bed until well after two o'clock that morning Molly had lain awake for a long time torturing herself with the memory of every annoying moment at the party and wishing that the evening had turned out differently. Whenever she thought of Jack's audacity in telling Charles that she was going home with him and was too busy to meet as planned for lunch on Sunday, she felt like screaming. She was desperate to set both Charles and Emma right on what had really happened but when Emma hadn't answered her phone call Molly had wondered if she had seen who was calling and ignored it. The thought of having incurred the anger and annoyance of Charles and Emma was upsetting. They must both think her very fickle and ungrateful as well as very rude.

Molly watched the light creeping through the crack in the curtains and heard the dawn chorus break into song. She glanced at her phone. It was still only five o'clock. She began to wonder how early would be too early to call someone. She desperately wanted to speak to Emma or Charles and explain her innocence. She didn't know Charles' number but prayed that Emma would pick up. At seven o'clock she got up and washed and dressed, still too wound up by everything that had happened to feel the effects of so little sleep. By half-past seven she decided it would be acceptable to send a text message and debated long and hard what to say but settled for,

 _Hi Emma, sorry about last night. There was mix up over arrangements. I'm free for lunch if it's still OK, Molly x_

She sent the text and even though she knew it was unreasonable to expect Emma to even be awake after such a late night, she sat on the edge of her bed, hoping against hope that she would hear the ping of a response.

Time rolled on. Molly went down to the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea and some toast, checking that the phone signal was still good and hoping she would hear something. She started preparing the brunch for Mr and Mrs Allen, trying to take time over it to keep herself busy and stop her watching the time but when the clock in the hall chimed quarter to nine she couldn't hold back any longer. She picked up her phone and called Emma's number again. The phone rang and rang for an age before it went to voicemail again.

"Oh, fuck it!"

Molly threw down the phone in frustrated exasperation. This was all so unfair. She could imagine Emma or Charles at the other end seeing her name flashing on the screen and deliberately ignoring it. This was all the fault of Jack Thorpe and she didn't see why she should have to suffer because of him. If they wouldn't answer her phone calls or messages then she had no choice but to go round to their house and tell them face to face.

Without any further hesitation she let herself out of the house and walked as briskly as she could in the direction of her friends' house. It was another fine day and already quite warm. By the time Molly reached the doorstep of the James' family home she felt quite hot and was conscious of the sweat that had broken out on her brow. She reached into her pocket for a tissue to wipe it away before taking a deep breath and ringing the bell. She heard it tinkle somewhere in the distance and it seemed like an age until footsteps were heard approaching. Then the door opened wide to reveal Mrs Stephens.

"Hello Molly. How can I help you?"

She didn't invite her in and Molly, in her agitated state, wondered for a brief second if the housekeeper had been told not to admit her.

"I was hoping to speak to Emma or Charles," Molly said trying to disguise the tremble in her voice.

"I see," Mrs Stephens replied eyeing her with a degree of curiosity. It was very early for someone to call on a Sunday especially after the late night of the party. "Well, I'm not sure that anyone's up, yet," she continued. "Do you want to leave a message and I'll pass it on to them later?"

Molly felt an embarrassing urge to cry. If she left a message they could just ignore that as well.

"Do you know when they might be up because it's really urgent that I speak to them?"

Mrs Stephen's hesitated. She could see that Molly was upset and she looked as if she was thinking about inviting her into the house but then seemed to think better of it and said, "Try phoning in an hour or two."

"I _have_ phoned already," Molly said forlornly, "but I don't think, Emma wants to speak to me."

"My sister's not up yet and I expect she's turned her phone off."

Molly looked up in shock to see Charles coming down the stairs, fully dressed and apparently fresh as a daisy despite the late night.

He smiled at Mrs Stephens, "It's alright, Margaret. I'll deal with this."

Mrs Stephens nodded and returned to the kitchen and Charles stood in the open doorway regarding Molly. He wasn't smiling in welcome and Molly felt sure he was cross with her. He clearly thought she was a problem he had to deal with and the change in him upset her more than she had expected but she wasn't going to allow him to tell her to piss off before she'd had a chance to say what she'd come here for.

"I'm sorry to turn up here like this, so early, but I just had to tell you the truth about last night," she blurted out in a tumble of words. "I didn't ask Jack Thorpe to give you a message and I didn't say I was going round to his house today. He didn't ask me about any of it because he's a nasty little shit who's just trying to cause trouble." She could feel herself teetering on the verge of tears and stopped to bite her lip in the hope that she would manage to hold it all together.

Charles stood in silence watching her. He couldn't deny that he had been more than a little annoyed by the message that the supposed friend of Molly's had delivered, particularly coming on top of Molly's strange behaviour at the party. He had come to the conclusion that he'd completely misjudged her and been rather cross with himself. However, hearing the honesty in her voice and seeing her standing on the doorstep looking as though she was about to burst into tears at any moment and clearly hadn't slept all night, his heart couldn't help but soften towards her. The corners of his mouth twitched in the semblance of a smile and he said quietly, "I thought there was something about him I didn't like."

Molly was relieved. It looked as though he believed her. He stood to one side and nodded his head in the direction of the hall. "Come in and have a cup of coffee and we'll talk about it."

She stepped into the house and he led her down to the kitchen and out onto a patio in the garden. Mrs Stephens had laid out a light breakfast of croissants, coffee and orange juice on a table. He invited Molly to sit down, poured her a coffee and one for himself and then, sitting back in his chair said, "Now suppose you start at the beginning and tell me what exactly was going on last night."

Molly shrugged, "What do you mean?"

Charles sipped his coffee and replied, "Well, I don't mind admitting I was pretty surprised when I heard you were leaving and hadn't even bothered to say goodbye and that you weren't coming out to lunch because I didn't get the impression that you were unsure about it when you accepted Emma's invitation. But then you were darting about all over the place and couldn't seem to make up your mind what you wanted to do." That wasn't what he really meant but he wasn't going to ask Molly outright what she thought about him. At this moment he wasn't sure what he thought about her apart from sensing that something had taken place last night that was beyond her control.

"I was a bit distracted," she admitted, "because I didn't know my friends would be working there."

Charles considered this. "So this 'nasty little shit' as you call him, is a friend of yours?" The disbelief in his voice was obvious given the way Molly had described him earlier.

"Well, he's not someone I want to be friends with but he's Izzy's brother and," she sighed, "It was him who was rude to Emma in the university bar. I didn't want Emma to see him 'specially when he remembered who she was and where he'd seen her before. I was worried what he might say."

It all began to make sense to Charles now. Molly had been flying around clearly trying to avoid Jack and distract Emma and looking as though she wasn't really enjoying herself at all. The only time she'd seemed remotely herself was when they'd had those few quiet moments alone outside the marquee but something had happened after she'd agreed to dance with him to change her mind. He remembered that she'd become concerned with the antics of her friend and his brother but he couldn't believe that was what had caused the problem.

"You changed your mind about dancing with me quite suddenly last night and, although I don't claim to be a chip off the family block in the dancing department, I thought you did want to dance with me before we went into the marquee."

Molly blushed. She couldn't help it. He was so right about that. "Jack came in."

Charles drank some more coffee and puzzled this. "So, you didn't want to dance with me in front of him." He looked at her. "Is there something I should know about you two? " Molly started to shake her head and Charles added, "Would I have been stepping on his toes?"

Molly's mouth almost dropped open with horror at this idea, "No!" Her denial was so swift and vehement that Charles struggled not to laugh but she continued, "Well, only in his dreams. Not that I'm saying I think I'm that special, if you know what I mean, just, that he's not my type." She was rambling and her face was growing warmer by the second as he listened without interruption containing his amusement. "It's just that I sort of had to agree to go on a date with him."

Charles stared at her. "Why, if you don't like him?"

Molly hesitated and looked down at her feet as she said, "Because he was going to cause trouble if I didn't shut him up somehow."

The penny dropped. Jack Thorpe was attracted to Molly but she didn't like him and the only way she could stop him making a nuisance of himself at the party and possibly saying something that might have rocked the boat for Emma had been by pretending she'd like to go on a date with him. Charles felt bad. His patience had worn thin last night and he had been pretty annoyed with her, if he was honest, although some of it was motivated by his personal feelings about her rather than any strong sense of her having failed to observe the social niceties. She'd been forced to put up with all that nonsense from Jack because of Emma's secret.

"You must have had a pretty miserable evening," he observed quietly.

Molly nodded but said nothing.

"Well, let's see if we can make up for it today," he smiled at her. "Can you still make lunch?"

Molly's heart lifted at the invitation and the expression on his face. "Yes, I've just got to go back and sort out brunch for the Allens but they'll just do their own thing for the rest of the day."

"Good. Then I'll let Emma know that we'll pick you up at noon, as planned."

Molly stood up. "I'll have to go now but thank you for listening."

Charles stood up too. "Well, I should have listened to my instincts last night and you wouldn't have ended up being taken home by a 'nasty little shit'."

Molly giggled and he couldn't help laughing too.

"What's the joke?" they both turned to see the General striding out onto the patio dressed for Golf, his trousers pressed with military precision, shirt pristine and shoes polished so well that he could see his face reflected in them.

"We were just recalling an anecdote from last night," Charles said with complete ease.

"Yes, not a bad do, as it turned out," the General replied and added, "Met a friend of Miss Dawes here, a young fellow called Thorpe, interested in joining up after University. We could do with more chaps like that."

Charles and Molly exchanged glances but Charles let the remark pass without comment.

"Well, you're very early Miss Dawes." The General glanced at the breakfast plates.

"Molly, had a message to deliver," Charles responded.

The General looked surprised but seemed to be thinking of something else before saying, "I don't suppose Mr Allen's likely to call in at the Golf club today, is he? Only I'd be very happy to stand him a drink if he's around."

Molly nodded. "I'll let him know when I go back in a minute."

"Very good of you."

Molly hesitated and then Charles took the hint and said, "I'll show you out. Thanks for the message."

He led her back though the house and they said goodbye at the front door. Charles turned back just in time to see Emma wandering down the stairs, fully dressed but still yawning, "Who was that?"

Charles smiled broadly. "Our lunch guest."

X-X-X-X

By the time Charles rang the bell at the Allen's house at noon, Molly had hurriedly prepared and served brunch, rushed upstairs and taken another lightning quick shower and changed into a pair of clean jeans and a light, sleeveless top. The last thing she did before opening the front door was to turn her phone off. She had absolutely no intention of taking any phone calls or messages from Jack or Izzy this afternoon. Jack had ruined her evening and he wasn't getting any chance of interrupting her afternoon with her friends.

The conversation with Charles this morning had lifted a weight from Molly's shoulders. It had mattered so much to her to tell him the truth. She'd never been particularly bothered about the opinion of other people before but everything was different with Charles and Emma. They were different from the people she'd known before. This whole world was different to her and as each day passed she found that she liked it far more than she could ever have expected. She could see herself possibly staying around here or finding another job in Bath. It was all quite sketchy in her mind at the moment but she had no doubt that by the time the summer had passed she would have made new plans.

When she opened the door just after twelve she had almost expected to see the blue MGA parked outside but recalling the fact that there were now three of them the modest saloon outside in the road was far more appropriate. Emma was sitting in the front seat and turned to greet Molly as she got into the back.

"I'm sorry about last night, Emma," Molly began.

Emma stopped her almost at once. "There's no need. Charles explained that there was a misunderstanding with your friends and I saw your messages when I got up this morning."

Molly glanced at Charles and it was obvious from his expression that he hadn't told Emma the whole truth including the fact that Emma's antagonist, Jack Thorpe, had been there.

"Yes, but I must have seemed really rude, so sorry."

Emma tilted her head to one side. "I'll admit that I was surprised at the time but it really doesn't matter, now."

They drove just a few miles out of the city into the countryside and turned down a steep narrow hill to cross an old toll bridge over the River Avon located just above a weir. At the other side of the bridge they turned into the car park of a waterside inn. It was a beautiful sunny day and the tables dotted all the way across the lawn to the waterside were already largely occupied with people drinking, eating and enjoying the sunshine on a lazy Sunday. Luckily Charles had had the foresight to call ahead and reserve a table and they were shown onto the terrace and ordered drinks whilst they perused the menu. With the order taken they were able to sit back and enjoy the pleasant scene.

"I don't know why people go abroad," Molly said looking around her, "Not when it's so lovely here."

Charles smiled but said, "Sadly, it's not like this often enough or I'd have to agree with you but generally speaking the Mediterranean beats England's unpredictable weather every time."

Emma threw him a look that implied she didn't agree. "You can't judge everything by good weather, Charles. Just think how amazing and dramatic the weather can be even when it's not good. What about the sight of the waves rolling into the beach on a stormy day or the brooding skies in the mountains. It can't all be about perfect blue skies and sunshine, surely. What do you think, Molly?"

Molly had been listening to the conversation between Charles and Emma and had noted the good natured way in which they disagreed or expressed their views. Having been called upon to give her own opinion she now had to make a sad confession, "I haven't really travelled very much so I don't know anything about the Mediterranean or the mountains and it doesn't look very pretty around East Ham when it's bucketing with rain. I just thought how nice it was here today and I couldn't imagine needing to go somewhere else when it's like this."

"You can't argue with that, Emma," Charles replied.

Emma smiled and shrugged. "OK. I'll concede that at this moment England could rival the Mediterranean but there are many other wonderful things to see and admire and imperfect things can still be beautiful."

"There speaks an artist," Charles teased.

"Not yet and probably not ever," Emma said with a frown.

Charles reached out to put a reassuring hand on his sister's arm. "Give it time. You never know. Dad may come round to the idea. I'll keep on trying for you with him but there's nothing to stop you drawing and painting even if it is just for yourself although you're much better than that. You came on leaps and bounds after that course last year."

A cloud crossed Emma's face.

Charles squeezed her arm. "Sorry, but I meant what I said. You're very good, Emma. You should show Molly some of your paintings."

Molly smiled at her. "I'd love to see them, Emma."

Emma looked a little embarrassed. "Really?"

Molly nodded. "Yeah, really."

Their meals arrived and they talked generally on a variety of subjects as they ate. Molly enjoyed hearing the playful banter between Charles and Emma. As much as he obviously cared for his sister he also teased her in a kind way which Molly could see brought her out of herself and lifted her spirits. They talked of books and films, although Molly tried to avoid the subject of old films as it brought Jack Thorpe to mind. It was Emma who brought up the subject of the film _Rebecca_ which they had both watched last week

"You enjoyed it didn't you, Molly?"

Molly nodded. "It had its moments."

Charles tried to disguise a smile. " I think Molly's being kind, Emma."

Molly rounded on him, "I'm not being kind. I'd say if I hated it."

He smirked, "Yes, I bet you would."

He was teasing her now and it both amused and provoked her. "I'm not used to films like that. It was different but I don't know much about them, although I suppose you're an expert."

Charles shook his head. "Not at all but I am older than both of you and I've seen a few films over the years." He sat back in his seat. "I bet I was appreciating the merits of Hitchcock and Welles while you were still enraptured by Tracey Beaker."

Molly giggled, "They sound like an expensive soap." Charles bit his lip and tried to maintain a serious expression as Molly continued, "Actually, my mum thought I _was_ Tracey Beaker most of the time." She looked at her friends and could see they were trying to work it out, "Because of my big mouth not the hair, of course."

Emma laughed and Charles gave in and allowed his face to break into a broad grin as he drawled. "I'd never have guessed."

"Didn't anyone tell you that being sarcastic aint clever?" Molly caught Charles' eye and held his gaze. She could see him thinking about a response, wondering how he could counter it without confirming her point and then he laughed in a self-deprecating manner and replied, "You've got me, there's no answer to that is there?"

Emma turned to Molly. "Well done. It's nice to see him not having the final word for once." She turned to Charles. "You'd better watch out."

Charles looked at Molly; happy, animated, bright and undeniably attractive. _Yes, I had better watch out, hadn't I._

X-X-X-X

It had been a glorious day, free from all the frustration and annoyances of yesterday and as they drove back into Bath later in the afternoon Molly could only think how relieved she was that she had acted so impulsively this morning and rushed round to Charles and Emma's house. She hadn't stopped to consider whether it was the right thing to do she had just known that she wouldn't rest until she had managed to give a proper explanation to them.

After leaving the waterside inn and deciding that a walk would be a nice idea the party of three had strolled up the road in the direction of Bathampton and wandered onto the tow path alongside the Kennet and Avon Canal where many brightly decorated boats were moored near The George public house. On such a perfect Sunday afternoon, there were large numbers of drinkers sitting outside and relaxing in the sunshine.

As they walked along the canal, Charles, at Molly's request, told her something of his military experience talking about the daily routine and the specialist role of his regiment. He didn't make too much of it and Molly might have thought it quite dull if Emma hadn't interjected, "He's being too modest. He was mentioned in dispatches for bravery in Afghanistan when he rescued one of his men under fire."

Charles rolled his eyes and looking slightly exasperated at his sister's intervention added, "Yes, but I got a bollocking too, Emma."

"Well I'm glad someone did it," Emma responded with feeling, "because I wanted to yell at you myself when I heard what you'd done."

Molly stared at him in genuine wonder. "Were you scared?"

Charles stopped and turned to face her, hands on hips thinking about this. "Yeah, I think I probably was but when the moment comes something makes you act," he shrugged. "Maybe it's training, maybe it's stupidity or a bit of both. Looking back it wasn't very clever but I couldn't leave one of my men out there." He seemed strangely down about this as if it had revived a memory he'd been holding at bay.

"You saved a man," Molly said as if feeling she needed to convince him he had done a good thing although to her it seemed obvious. "You should be proud."

Charles shook his head. "He didn't make it."

Molly realised what he meant and why the memory saddened him. "Oh, I'm sorry," she paused but added, "It still doesn't change what you did."

"No, but it changes the way I feel about it," he said. "I didn't bring all my men back and I'll never forget that."

He turned and they walked on in silence for a while until Charles, conscious of having dampened the mood sought to lift their spirits and said, "Well, I've told you about me and you know that Emma wants to be an artist but what does the future hold for Molly Dawes?"

Molly shrugged, "Have you a got a crystal ball?"

Out of the corner of her eye Molly could see Charles struggling to keep his composure before he said casually, "No, it's just the way I walk."

Molly burst out laughing and even Emma started to giggle. A minute or two passed before Molly was able to consider the original question seriously and still smiling she said, "I honestly don't know what I'm gonna do. But being here in Bath has made me think I could do more. I never thought I'd have anything to do with people like you and Emma and the Allens. I thought we all lived in different worlds but we're not really so different are we? Not in ways that really matter."

Charles nodded. "If being in places like Afghanistan has taught me anything it's that when you strip away all the trappings of wealth or class or whatever you want to call it, people are the same the world over." He gazed at her, "So, Molly Dawes, it looks as if we'll all have to wait with bated breath to see what happens next."

Now that the afternoon was almost at a close, Molly remembered that she had turned her phone off for the sake of a peaceful and quiet afternoon free of interruptions. However, she now realised with a sinking feeling that she might be on the verge of a barrage of voice mails and texts from Izzy and Jack about the fact that she hadn't gone to their house today. Although she had told Jack quite plainly she wasn't going she knew that he probably hadn't paid any attention and would have expected her anyway. She wasn't sorry in the slightest that she hadn't gone but she still didn't want to have to deal with their complaints which would be sure to follow.

They parked up outside the James' house as Charles had suggested she call in for a drink before she went home. "Emma could show you some of her paintings," Charles added seeing his sister look embarrassed at their mention. It was a welcome delay to Molly's return and despite Emma trying to shake her head at Molly and tell her it was a bad idea Molly said, "Thanks I'd like to."

Molly followed Charles and Emma into the house but no sooner had they shut the front door behind them then the General appeared from the lounge and crossed the hall towards them with purposeful strides looking as if he had been waiting for them.

"Ah, you're all back at last and I see Miss Dawes is with you. How fortuitous."

Molly had only met the General on three occasions and found his manner difficult to interpret. If she was honest, she was a little bit afraid of him and the picture she had formed of his personality based on her own observations and odd comments from Emma and Charles was not very favourable. To her he seemed brusque, impatient and in Emma's case, in particular, quite domineering. The expression on his face was serious and to Molly's surprise his attention seemed to be focused upon her.

"I wonder if you could come this way." He said fixing his gaze upon her and pointing towards his study, "There's something urgent I need to discuss with you."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

"I've been labouring under a misapprehension regarding you, Miss Dawes."

The General held Molly's gaze, his expression was serious and she wondered if this was the look he had used to intimidate junior officers in the past. Not for the first time she felt sorry for the James' children. It couldn't have been easy growing up with such a disciplinarian for a father.

Molly was sitting opposite the General in his study. The moment he had asked her to come through, saying that he needed to speak to her, her mind had turned into a jumble of fear and nerves. Her first thought was that Jack Thorpe must have something to do with this. For a moment she wondered if he had taken his revenge on her for ignoring his arrangements and making sure he couldn't contact her all day. The General had seemed impressed by Jack when he had met him last night and he might listen to anything negative Jack had to say about Molly. It was an awful thought and she was desperate to know what the General was going to say but equally anxious that she was about to find herself in a lot of trouble.

"I suppose you'd like to know what it is that I misunderstood about you?"

Molly nodded slowly. "Yes." Her voice almost cracked with the tension.

"I'm afraid I hadn't realised that you weren't a guest of the Allens. I understand that you're actually employed by them."

So that was it, Molly thought with a sinking feeling. Someone had blabbed to the General. The first time he'd met Molly at the Allens' drinks party she'd realised that he was confused about who she was and must have thought she was staying with the older couple for some reason. Mr and Mrs Allen had been generous and had treated her very well, certainly in a different manner than the General would have expected an employee to be treated. Charles and Emma knew who she was and why she was in Bath, of course, but she was sure they wouldn't have said anything to their father. It was obvious that it didn't matter to them but she guessed that someone like the General with such an ingrained sense of rank would probably consider her unfit to be friends with his son and daughter. This had all the hallmarks of Jack Thorpe and already she was planning on telling him exactly what she thought of him if she had the misfortune to see him again.

In the meantime, there was nowhere to hide. The General was stating a fact that she couldn't deny. She squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye. "Yes, I do work for them."

"I see," the General said with a nod. "Mr Allen said you'd been with them about five weeks, is that right?"

"Mr Allen?" Molly exclaimed.

The General looked surprised. "Yes, I met him at the Golf Club today and we had a drink, if you remember."

Of course. Now Molly remembered relaying the invitation to Mr Allen this morning after returning from the meeting with Charles. So it hadn't been Jack Thorpe's work at all on this occasion. For a moment she felt relief that it hadn't been him telling lies until she realised that the conclusion of this conversation was still highly predictable. She was still about to find herself barred from the James' family home but the only difference was that the blame lay with her own very kind employer.

"Your employment with Mr and Mrs Allen presents me with a dilemma," the General continued.

Molly steeled herself waiting for him to say that she seemed a very nice girl but he'd prefer her not to keep company with Emma anymore. It was amazing she thought how people could fall over backwards with compliments when they wanted to lie to you.

"You see, I have a proposal for you to consider but you'll have to make a decision about your job."

Molly was astonished and her curiosity was immediately aroused. This was not the way she had expected the conversation to turn and she now realised that the General sounded more serious than stern. She sat on the edge of her seat waiting for him to continue.

"Charles was telling me this morning that you've become very good friends with Emma and I can see that she really enjoys your company. With that in mind I wondered how would you feel about spending a few weeks with us at our holiday home in Cornwall as a companion for Emma?"

Molly was astonished. She had truly been prepared for a 'never darken my door again' speech and she still couldn't believe her ears. "You're asking me to go with you all to Cornwall?"

The General nodded. "Well, myself and Emma mainly although Charles may come down for some of the time if he can make it."

"You're really asking _me_?" Molly repeated.

The General stared at her. "Yes. Is there some reason that surprises you?"

"Well, yes," Molly confessed. "I mean, Emma's other friends must be a bit different to me."

The General seemed to grasp her meaning. "Let me tell you Miss Dawes that if you think I'm concerned about matters such as where a person is born or grows up then _you_ are labouring under a misapprehension too. I believe that a person succeeds or fails on their own merits whatever their background and that's all that interests me. Charles and Emma have both spoken of you very favourably and Mr and Mrs Allen also speak very highly of you. Decency and honesty are what matter to me most. So, my question remains. Would you like to come to Cornwall with us as our guest?"

Molly didn't know what to say. Her first reaction had been to say 'yes' without giving it another thought. She'd had such a lovely day today that the thought of spending more time with Emma and Charles was very appealing but then she remembered what the General had just said about decency and honesty and realised that he would expect her to show some consideration for the Allens. They had been good to her and she would be leaving them in the lurch not to mention the fact that she would lose her income. On this second point she considered that the General had asked her as their guest. In some ways it wouldn't be much different than living with the Allens who hadn't paid her much on top of her board and lodging.

"I need to speak to Mr and Mrs Allen," she said at last. "I would feel bad about letting them down but it's very kind of you to invite me and I would like to go."

For the first time the General smiled a little. "Well, if it's any help I understand the Allens have received a holiday invitation themselves, so you may not inconvenience them as much as you fear. However, it's quite right that you should talk to them first before letting us know your decision."

A thought occurred to Molly. "You said before that the matter was urgent. When are you going?"

"Ah, I almost forgot," the General replied. "I'm afraid there isn't much time. We're leaving on Tuesday as I have some urgent business matters to attend to."

They were leaving the day after tomorrow. Molly would have no choice but to speak to the Allens immediately if she wanted to go. She felt conflicted. As much as the job in Bath had not started out with much promise, in the last two or three weeks everything had improved although much of that was because of Charles and Emma. She remembered Emma's description of the holiday home; Abbey House on the island of Northanger and recalled thinking when she had first heard about it that it didn't sound like much fun. It certainly wasn't much fun for Emma by the sounds of it, not spending the summer there alone in the company of her father. Charles had said at the party that it would be a long summer for Emma and clearly a lonely one if she couldn't see Francois and it had been Charles who had spoken to his father about his sister's friendship with Molly. However, being in Cornwall would make it less likely that she would see Charles although the General had said Charles would probably try to join them. If she stayed in Bath she might see him more often although there wouldn't be the excuse of seeing Emma to bring him back. When she thought about the offer, however, she couldn't help thinking that Charles would want her to go with Emma. He would appreciate her keeping Emma company and it was no hardship because she truly liked his sister. Her decision was made.

"I'll speak to the Allens when I get back."

The General nodded. "Very good. I'll wait to hear from you."

When Molly emerged from the General's study fifteen minutes later she saw that Charles was waiting outside with a serious expression on his face. He had changed into his combat fatigues, shirt sleeves rolled up on such a warm evening to reveal his tanned forearms. A small bag was sitting on the floor by the front door.

"I've got to get back to barracks," he explained, "but I thought I'd wait to see you and make sure that everything was alright."

Molly nodded. "It's fine. Your father has asked me if I'd like to go to Cornwall with Emma on Tuesday."

Charles' face broke in to a wide grin. "That's marvellous. Emma will be delighted." He hesitated, "that's if you're intending to say yes."

Molly smiled. "Of course I am. I just need to tell the Allens first. I hope they don't mind."

"Yes, of course," he agreed and added, "I really am delighted. Emma doesn't always enjoy it at Northanger now. Not the way she used to. I hoped Dad might ask you."

The smirk on his face suggested he had known something about it and Molly couldn't help saying, "Was it your idea?"

He feigned a look of innocence and said vaguely, "I might have suggested the idea of her taking a friend with her this year."

Molly smiled. It was as she had suspected.

"Look, I'm due some leave," Charles said, "so I'll see if I can make it down there for a while."

Molly looked at him her heart beating suddenly very quickly. "I'd really like that."

He held her gaze. "So would I."

X-X-X-X

"Molly, dear, you're back," Mrs Allen stated the obvious as Molly walked through the front door.

"Yes, sorry I'm a bit late. I was held up."

"Well, you missed a visitor earlier this afternoon. A young man."

There were no prizes for guessing who that had been and Molly said, "Jack Thorpe by any chance?"

"Were you expecting him?" Mrs Allen seemed surprised that Molly had known he would be calling but hadn't been here.

"Yes and no." Molly rolled her eyes in disgust. "I didn't invite him but I'm not surprised he called round."

"Oh," Mrs Allen was clearly perplexed. Young people seemed to make such vague arrangements. In her day she would have been very upset to have missed a visit from such a keen young man. Molly, on the other hand, was grateful she hadn't been here but thoroughly annoyed that in spite of everything she had said he had still had the temerity to call round here, no doubt with the intention of badgering her about his arrangements and trying to bully her into going round to his house or worse still, make arrangements for the date she had promised him. If she'd had any doubts about telling the Allens she was leaving and would soon be a long way from Bath, this piece of news dispelled them entirely.

"Could I have a word with you and Mr...er..Brian?" Molly asked thinking it was best to get the matter out of the way immediately.

"Well as a matter of fact," Mrs Allen replied, "We wanted to have a word with you too dear, so come into the lounge."

Molly recalled the General saying that the Allens had received a holiday invitation. She assumed that this was the reason for the discussion. She followed Mrs Allen into the lounge and sat down. Mr Allen had been having a nap with his feet up and hastily roused himself and sat up in the chair as Molly walked in.

"Molly's here, dear," Mrs Allen said nodding at her husband clearly expecting him to start the conversation.

Mr Allen cleared his throat and tried to gather his wits about him. "Molly, I hope you know how much we've enjoyed you being with us over the last few weeks and I hope you feel we have treated you fairly."

Molly nodded. "Yes, of course." She waited for him to tell her what she already knew.

"Well, I'm sorry to say that we were very surprised to hear that you've been working for a catering agency behind our backs."

The shock of the surprise Mr Allen had just delivered must have registered on Molly's face because Mrs Allen said at once, "The young man was chatting to us about you and it just slipped out in conversation that he worked with you. You can imagine our surprise. It's not that we mind so very much about you doing a little extra work but we were disappointed that you weren't honest with us."

Molly was wrongfooted. Her thoughts had been focused on the invitation from the General. Even the news that Jack Thorpe had been here hadn't surprised her given the way he usually behaved. It hadn't crossed her mind that he might tell the Allens about her moonlighting but it was more than likely he had let the information slip on purpose. There was nothing for it now but to apologise.

"I'm sorry, I didn't tell you. It was just that, to be honest, I was bit short of cash and needed some extra money." She felt herself blushing but hoped the Allens would be forgiving.

Mrs Allen looked at her husband for guidance and he shrugged to indicate it was up to her what to say next.

"Well, Molly, dear, I wish you had told us but it's too late now," Mrs Allen stated.

"Too late?" Molly said anxious as to her meaning.

"I mean that it can't be helped now but I must ask you to promise that you don't work for the agency anymore whilst you're with us. We'd prefer that."

This was the moment that Molly needed to speak.

"As a matter of fact, Mrs Allen, I wanted to speak to you about an invitation I've had from General James to go with him and Emma to their holiday home in Cornwall."

"An invitation to join the James's?" Mr Allen exclaimed.

Molly nodded, "Yes. Only, they're leaving on Tuesday and it would mean that I couldn't work for you anymore. I'm really sorry to give you such short notice."

Mrs Allen was clearly very surprised and looked as though she was about to object but then her husband interjected, "Perhaps we could consider taking your sister up on her invitation to St Tropez after all, Janet, if Molly's going to desert us."

"I'm really sorry, Mr Allen," Molly cried feeling even more guilty, "it's just that I was only asked this afternoon."

Mr Allen smiled. "Don't concern yourself, Molly. I was joking. It sounds as if you've had a nice invitation of your own and I don't see why we should stop you taking the General up on it if you want to." He leaned towards her and lowered his voice a little as he added, "There's nothing like a free holiday and St Tropez is more than appealing to me for exactly the same reason." He nodded with emphasis, leaned back in his chair and put his feet up. The conversation was at an end as far as he was concerned. Mrs Allen looked as though she might have wanted him to insist on Molly giving a longer notice period but it seemed as if she had been overruled.

"Well, I hope you have a nice time, dear." She smiled but didn't sound entirely as if she meant it.

Molly breathed a sigh of relief. The Allens may have been disappointed in her but they were kind enough not to begrudge her an opportunity when it came knocking. She smiled at them both, full of gratitude. "Thank you. I won't forget this."

X-X-X-X

Molly hesitated outside the entrance to the Prestige office. She had intended to give Andy a ring and tell him she wouldn't be available for work anymore as she was going away but she had been rushing around town getting a few last minute items. Emma had called her on Sunday evening after hearing the news from her father that Molly would be joining her and she had told Molly about the place.

"Parts of the house date from the fifteenth century. There was apparently an Abbey on the site originally and an order of Monks lived on the island in seclusion from the rest of the world. They all left during the time of Henry the eighth and the place fell into ruins until the island was purchased by the Northanger family who owned the place for the next three hundred years up until Victorian times. Various people have owned it since then. The house is a bit of a higgledy-piggledy place because everyone's had a go at adding bits to it over the years. My parents bought it when they were first married and we've been going there ever since."

From this description and Emma's information that there was nothing else on the island apart from a boathouse and jetty, a few outbuildings and what remained of an old World War Two observation post, it had sounded to Molly as if she ought to stock up on supplies because popping round the corner to the local shop wouldn't be an option. If she was honest, she had wondered briefly if she was doing the right thing. It sounded as far removed as possible from anywhere she had ever been before but Emma had assured her that they wouldn't be stuck there the whole time and it was quite possible to go over to the mainland each day if they wanted. She seemed particularly pleased that she would have a friend with her. "Dad doesn't like me going off by myself, so it's great that we can do things together. Thanks so much for coming, Molly. It'll make such a difference." Hearing the gratitude in Emma's voice, Molly couldn't help but feel bad for regretting the decision even momentarily. She told herself to be positive. It was going to be an adventure.

As she stepped into the Prestige office, however, she couldn't really feel her positive attitude in evidence. Andy was in his usual position; telephone glued to his left ear, right hand on a keyboard and piles of paper all over his desk. He glanced up as she walked in and mouthed, "I'll be with you in a minute." He carried on talking to someone on the other end, trying to persuade them to work on a business lunch the next day. After several more minutes of persuasion he got a result and thanking them rang off and ticked a name off of his list in a triumphant gesture. "Four down and four to go." He looked up. "Fancy working on a small lunch tomorrow, Molly?"

Molly grimaced. "Sorry, I can't, Andy."

He looked disappointed and Molly then added, "Actually, I can't work for Prestige anymore at all. Sorry."

He looked put out now. "What's the problem? You're not joining the opposition are you?"

She shook her head. "I'm not going to be around."

He looked suspicious. "Is this true or are you and Izzy in league or something?"

Molly looked blank. "What do you mean?"

"It's no coincidence then that Izzy's told me she can't work for the foreseeable either and shortly after that her boyfriend called and said he couldn't be bothered and he'd only been doing the job to spend time with her which was pointless now. "

"I don't know what you're talking about," Molly said truthfully. "I haven't spoken to Izzy since Saturday and she weren't in a good state then." She bit her lip. She'd forgotten that Izzy shouldn't have been drinking at a client's party and that she herself had made an excuse about not being able to work that day. She hoped Andy hadn't picked up on it but he was too sharp for her. He narrowed his eyes.

"I heard Izzy and Jimmy had a bust up at a function on Saturday in front of the guests which was bad enough but what do you mean about her being in a bad state. Is there something else I should know?"

Molly shook her head. "No, I don't know. I just meant she seemed a bit upset on Saturday from what I can gather."

He let it pass, too busy to enquire any further but he was none too pleased with the news that he was now three employees down and was faced with the uphill task of having to fill a whole list of bookings with an ever dwindling pool of staff.

Molly left the office wondering what had caused Izzy to pack in her job. Although Andy was right that there had been a disagreement at the party, from what she had seen at the end of the night she would have expected Izzy and Jimmy to make things up the next day. The thought crossed her mind several times during the rest of the day and conscious of the fact that she was going to be leaving Bath the next morning Molly finally resolved late on Monday evening to call her friend.

The phone rang for a long time before Izzy answered. She sounded a bit flustered. "Oh, Molly. Why are you calling?"

Molly thought this was odd. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm leaving Bath tomorrow. Not sure when I'll be back so I won't see you for a while."

"Oh, having a holiday?"

"Something like that," Molly said unwilling to give away too many details. "I saw Andy at Prestige today. He said you aren't working for him now nor Jimmy."

"I'm a bit busy and Jimmy can do what he likes," came the vague reply. There was muffled sound in the background and someone else's voice but Izzy must have put her hand over the phone. Molly heard Izzy giggle and then there was a pause.

"Izzy?" Molly said.

A few seconds went by and then Izzy's voice came back, "Sorry, Molly, I'll have to go. I'll tell Jack."

A man's voice could be heard telling her to hurry up and come back to bed.

"Bye, gotta go. Have a nice time." She rang off.

Molly stared at her phone. It all made sense now. Izzy had been vague and evasive and was apparently too busy to be working for Prestige as if she had other plans for the near future. Jimmy thought it was pointless as he had only been working for the agency to be close to Izzy and Izzy didn't seem to care what Jimmy did. It could all be explained by the simple fact that Molly had clearly recognised the voice of the man in the background; it was Harry James.

X-X-X-X

The bell in the distant clock tower tolled the hour as Molly's bags were stowed away in the boot of General James' Range Rover at ten on the dot. Molly turned to look back at the Allens' house and caught sight of Mrs Allen at the window watching her departure. Molly raised a hand and Mrs Allen did likewise with a curt nod. Last night Mr Allen had paid her all her outstanding money and despite the disappointment expressed on Sunday, he had also given her a little bonus for her holiday and, a word of advice about General James. "I've only known the man a very short time, Molly, but stay on the right side of him. He strikes me as someone who likes people to play by the rules being a military man and all that. So, no moonlighting, alright?" He had winked at her pressed the envelope with the bonus into her hand and she had thanked him with genuine gratitude for his generosity although his words had reminded her of her first impressions and the comments of Charles and Emma and a sense of trepidation returned and was still with her the next morning as she got into the car alongside her friend. However, one look at her Emma's animated face and the recollection that she would hopefully be able to spend more time in the company of Charles overcame Molly's nerves and as they drove away from Bath her overriding sensation was one of happy anticipation of her arrival at Northanger.

 ** _Sorry, I know that wasn't the most riveting of chapters but I think it was just one of those that is necessary to move the story along to the next stage, just as Molly has left Bath on the next stage of her adventure…hopefully!_**


	9. Chapter 9

**_Thank you for reading and all your reviews. It feels as if the story has naturally moved into Part Two as we have relocated from Bath to Cornwall. I have to apologise that Charles doesn't feature a great deal in this chapter - sorry everyone - but hang in there, it won't be long …._**

 **Chapter Nine**

The General had timed the party's arrival at Northanger with military precision. His insistence on leaving Bath on time and the impatience he had shown occasionally when caught in stop start traffic on the motorway heading into Devon, was explained by Emma speaking in a low voice to Molly, "If we miss the low tide we'll have to leave the car on the mainland and take a boat over to the island then come back for it and most of our bags tomorrow. Dad doesn't like being inconvenienced."

The General need not have worried. They made perfect time and as the car turned a bend in the winding coastal road, the sun came out to reveal a small bay below and set about five hundred metres from the shore of the mainland, a small island. The tide had gone out completely and a stone causeway led out across the sand to the island. Molly could see a rough zigzag track that led from the beach on the far side up the hill behind it to a house set near the top of the cliff with commanding views of the sea and the mainland.

"That's Abbey House," Emma said pointing to her left through the car windows. Molly took in the sight of the house and remembered Emma's words about the mix of styles. She didn't know much about architecture but even at this distance she could see that the part of the house on the left looked newer and was of a pale grey stone whilst the right hand side appeared much older and there seemed to be a tower at one end.

"So what do you make of our little kingdom, Miss Dawes?"

Molly sensed that the General was making a joke and, wanting to humour him, she smiled and replied, "Well, your house looks a little bit like a castle at one end so I s'pose that makes you the King"

The General laughed, "Very true, although the tower is really the last remaining vestige of the Abbey, so I suppose Chief Abbot would be more appropriate."

The car descended a hill into the small seaside village of Woodston. The narrow streets were quiet as the holiday season had not yet begun in earnest and only a few families with small children could be seen in the streets or braving the beach for a windswept picnic. They passed a general store and post office, 'The Beachcomber' café, a pub called 'The Ship' and several Bed and Breakfast establishments before taking a turning to the left and driving down towards a small harbour with a concrete slipway that led down onto the causeway. With the tide out, several small fishing boats lay high and dry on the sand, still tied to the moorings along the harbour wall. Before they reached the causeway the General slowed and stopped next to an old whitewashed fisherman's cottage overlooking the harbour. He turned off the engine and announced, "I'll just check in with Joe before we drive over."

Molly watched him get out of the car, stroll across to the cottage and rap smartly at the front door.

"Joe Spargo keeps an eye on the place for us when we're not here and does a bit of maintenance," Emma explained.

The door was opened by a grey-haired, bearded man in his sixties. He greeted the General and they seemed to be having a conversation accompanied by a few nods and gestures before the General returned.

"Hannah's over there setting up," General James informed Emma before starting up the car again and descending the slipway onto the causeway.

"Hannah?" Emma exclaimed obviously surprised.

"Yes, apparently she's back," the General replied, "and Pauline's having trouble with her back so isn't up to things today."

"Who's Hannah?" Molly asked.

"She's Joe and Pauline's daughter," Emma advised. "The last thing I heard was that she was living in Manchester. She went to University up there and stayed on afterwards."

"Well, apparently, she's back for good," the General supplied adding with a chuckle, "Who wants to tell Charles?"

"That was years ago, Dad," Emma said dismissively.

Molly glanced from one to the other trying to gauge the meaning of this exchange. She said nothing but her mind was turning cartwheels. The General seemed to think Charles would be particularly interested in Hannah's return as if there was something between them once. She told herself sternly it was none of her business. Emma was right; whatever had happened years ago was in the past.

Emma turned to Molly. "Pauline normally helps with the housekeeping. She comes over to the house every morning when we're staying. If it's high tide then Joe brings her over and fetches her in his boat."

"But you can walk can't you?" Molly asked looking at the exposed causeway and feeling worried by the repeated reliance on boats.

"Oh, yes," Emma said, "You just need to make sure you know the tide times. It stays out for a good few hours but when it starts coming in it can move very quickly and sometimes takes people by surprise."

The General overhearing this comment said, "Emma's right. We've had a few guests staying who've arrived back with wet feet after going for a stroll over to Woodston and having to make a dash for it."

They crossed the causeway in less than a minute although the General drove slowly across the uneven surface ensuring that the four by four stayed central to the track. As they approached Northanger Molly could see the causeway ended at another slipway leading up from a small beach. Close to the slipway was a large wooden boathouse.

"We've got a small boat with an outboard motor which we use at high tide if we need to get across and it can't wait." Emma said pointing to the building.

They drove up the steep track to the house and as they drew near Molly could see that it was a lot larger than it had looked from the mainland and that the mixture of styles was even more pronounced close up. The tower at the far end of the house was leaning at a slight angle due to its age and looked precarious. The middle section of the house was gabled with small leaded windows and window sills that were no longer perfectly straight and reminded Molly of some of the shops she had seen in the narrow alleyways of Bath. Only the largest section of the house to the left looked reasonably new being of solid late Victorian or early Edwardian appearance although an attempt had been made to give the wing the air of a fortress with mock battlements near the edge of the roof. The General brought the car to a stop at the front door and shortly afterwards a young woman appeared at the door and strolled towards them.

Hannah Spargo was one of those young women who move through life unhindered by any degree of self-consciousness. Tall and slim, she was a fresh-faced natural beauty who looked as though she had being living a healthy outdoor life from her earliest days. Dressed only in a pair of old jeans and a tee shirt she still could have graced the front cover of a lifestyle magazine and Molly fleetingly thought she could be wearing a sack and she'd still look fantastic. Hannah greeted the General and Emma like long lost friends and gave Molly a friendly nod of welcome.

"Well, this is a pleasant surprise," the General began, "What brings you back, Hannah?"

Hannah shrugged. "This and that. Time for a change, you know." Molly recognised a cagey response when she heard one and wondered what the real reason was but the General accepted the comment and started to ask her about her mother and father.

Hannah helped them bring their bags into the hall from the car and then Emma and Molly followed her down a winding corridor to a large Kitchen at the rear of the house. Hannah busied herself putting the kettle onto the hot plate of the Aga to boil to make tea and preparing a light lunch for them before asking, "How are you, Emma?" The concern in her voice was obvious to Molly and the significance of the question not lost on Emma.

"I'm very well, thank you." Emma replied quickly not wishing to dwell on anything past and turned the question around. "And you?"

"I'm good," Hannah confirmed adding, "Well, between careers, if I'm honest, but something will turn up."

"What was it you were doing in Manchester?" Emma asked.

"Marketing," Hannah said. "But I fancy a change. I thought it would be good to come back for the summer and get my head round what to do next."

"A sea change," Emma observed.

Hannah smiled, "Yes, something like that."

X-X-X-X

Emma was enjoying herself. She was showing Molly around the house and was eager to tell her everything she knew about its history and lots of anecdotes from her childhood particularly all the fun the children had had playing hide and seek in the nooks and crannies in the house of which there were many. Molly loved hearing the stories and particularly those that involved Charles as a boy.

"Harry was the tease," Emma reminisced. "He was older and he really knew how to wind me up because I was the smallest but Charles would always stand up for me especially when Harry blamed me for things because I was too little to speak up for myself."

"So he's always been a good brother, then," Molly remarked.

Emma nodded. "Yes, he has. Although, you probably saw on Sunday that he teases me a bit too, now. But I don't mind. I've learned to laugh at myself." It was hard for Molly to imagine there was anything about herself that Emma would need to laugh at. She seemed so good natured and willing to please everyone. No one could consider any of her habits ridiculous or laughable.

"Well, if he could find anything to tease you about then he'd have a field day with me," Molly replied, "I mean, I don't know a lot about much."

"I don't think that's true, " Emma said in all earnestness, "I think you know a lot more than you realise about many things."

After they had looked all over the house, Emma took Molly outside into the garden pointing out in passing the well from which all the fresh water was pumped up to the house and the generator which provided electricity as there was no mains power on the island.

"It used to be coal fired but Charles persuaded Dad to get it converted so now we have a wind turbine. You can't see it from here as Dad insisted it was placed out of sight of the house but it's just over the hill top there."

As they strolled around to the front of the house Emma said, "On the right is the Abbot's Tower or that's what we like to call it. The foundations date from the late fourteen hundreds and the rest was built about eighty years later."

Molly was impressed. "You're good at this, Emma. You should be a tour guide at one of those stately homes or something."

Emma laughed, "I don't know about that. I think you must be the first person I've shown around this place since mum died." A shadow crossed her face, "Dad doesn't often invite people anymore. We used to have loads of visitors in the summer when mum was alive and it was always our job to give the guided tours. It was so much fun then. I miss it."

Molly stood back and looked up at the old building. "What's in the tower?"

"Not much," Emma said. "My father doesn't like us to go in there."

"Is it dangerous or something?" Molly asked seeing that it looked a little run down and was listing at an angle.

"No." Emma replied. "It might look a bit like the Leaning Tower of Pisa but my father had a structural engineer check it out and it's fine. It's locked up and he just prefers us to leave it alone." She glanced at Molly. "Actually, it used to be my mother's studio."

"A studio," Molly repeated. "So, was she an artist too?"

Emma nodded. "Yes, and a really good one. Before she met my father she used to take commissions and sell paintings through galleries in London but she didn't do as much after she married and had all of us. She liked to come here and paint. When we were older and away at school and Dad was off on a tour somewhere she used to come down here by herself and just paint to her heart's content." Emma sounded wistful and although to Molly's ears it sounded a bit of a lonely and isolated existence she could see that for someone with Emma's talent it would seem completely different.

"Are there any of your mother's paintings here?" Molly asked. "I'd love to see them."

Emma shook her head. "There used to be but my father took them down after mum died and stored them away. I don't think he could bear to see them or maybe he thought it would be too much for me."

Molly was silent. She didn't want to pry. Charles had told her that Emma had suffered after her mother's death but Emma hadn't told her much and she reasoned it was her business to share if she wanted or keep to herself if she didn't. Emma stared out to sea and said quietly, "The sight of them did make me cry at the beginning but now time has moved on and I'm stronger I think I'd really like to see them again. It would bring mum back to me. They're such wonderful paintings."

Molly nodded. She didn't know much about art but she could imagine how wonderful it would be to have something so personal and meaningful to look upon and remember.

"Could you ask your father about them?" she ventured.

Emma shook her head. "I did, last year, but he wouldn't hear of it." She turned to look at Molly, her expression hardening slightly. "He's not convinced it would be in my best interests. Just like he's not convinced that I should go to Art School." She sighed and looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't say things like that. He cares about me a great deal but I don't think he realises that I've grown up and I have come to terms with things now." She gave a sad smile. "I don't know what I'd do without Charles or you."

Molly wondered for a moment about Francois and how he fitted into all of this. Emma had never mentioned him in Molly's presence but somehow, somewhere Emma had met and fallen in love with an older man. She was curious to know how this had happened but once again felt that she shouldn't ask unless Emma wanted to volunteer the information. She sensed it was all a matter of trust and that as time moved on Emma would tell her what she trusted her to know.

"Shall we go back in and get a drink?" Emma suggested. "Seeing as the tour has now ended."

As they walked to the door, they were met by the General walking out the other way accompanied by Hannah. She had a bag with her and looked as though she was leaving.

"Well it's been marvellous to see you, Hannah," the General concluded, "And you think your mother will be up to coming back tomorrow,"

"That's right, " Hannah said, "She was annoyed not to make it over today but I'm sure she'll be right as rain tomorrow." She started to make her way down the track calling out, "Goodbye, Emma. It was nice to meet you too, Molly."

"It's a pity Charles wasn't here, today, as well, " the General called back, "He'd love to have seen you. "

"Oh. Send him my love. It'll be great to see him if he's coming down." Hannah called, "Get him to look me up or come over to 'The Ship'. I'm working there for the summer." She waved her hand and headed off down the track in earnest towards the beach below. Molly could see Joe waiting there with the boat, ready to ferry her back to Woodston now that the tide had turned and was on the way in.

"Such a delightful girl," the General observed as he watched Hannah stroll down the hill. "We've known her since she was a child. She and Charles were inseparable when they were young"

X-X-X-X

It was almost time for dinner and Emma had urged Molly before she went upstairs not to be late saying, "Dad hates food to get cold." Hannah had prepared the meal before she had left that afternoon and all Emma needed to do was serve it at six o'clock.

The General's insistence on being on time was no more than Molly had begun to expect by this time. She had only spent eight hours in his company but she could see what a difficult life Emma had and why Charles was so supportive of her. Harry it seemed had flown the nest and made his own successful life in London. Apart from the occasional trip to Bath and events such as the party he seldom showed his face. Charles had a career which could take him anywhere in the world at short notice and therefore a life largely independent of his father although he found himself subject to his scrutiny from time to time due to his father's military experience. However, poor Emma was very much under her father's thumb. Her ill health as a teenager following her mother's death, that her father believed had made her vulnerable and in need of his protection had also made her vulnerable to his control. From the conversations they'd had about Emma's artistic ambitions it had been obvious that she was reliant upon her father's goodwill to fund any studies and she hadn't convinced him yet that it would a good idea.

Molly gazed out of her bedroom window. It was high tide. The causeway over which they had driven at lunchtime was invisible below the waves and the on the far shore the late evening sunshine had bathed Woodston in a golden glow. They were cut off here and the sensation of isolation was eerie and alien to Molly. She shivered slightly and then laughed at herself. It was like one of Jack Thorpe's old movies being in this strange old house cut off from the rest of the world even if it was only for a few hours each day.

Tomorrow Emma had suggested that they walk over to Woodston at low tide. She had offered to show Molly around and said they could have lunch at 'The Ship'. Molly wasn't sure what she felt about this final suggestion. It had brought Hannah Spargo to mind. The General seemed quite taken with Hannah and had been at pains to sing her praises and reminisce about her friendship with Charles. She was undoubtedly a very attractive young woman, older than Molly, well-educated and self-assured. It was also apparent that despite the differences in their family circumstances Hannah was naturally at ease amongst them and Molly was envious of that ease and familiarity. She was trying very hard to relax but she felt as if she were on tenterhooks whenever the General was around. Even Emma with a lifetime of experience seemed on edge at times. It was no wonder, Molly reflected, that Emma couldn't tell her father the truth about her relationship with Francois. Molly began to wonder just what it was about the Frenchman that her father didn't like. Charles had said the situation was complicated but the General had told her he believed that people should be judged on their own merits. She could only assume that he felt this man had no merits whatsoever which made both Emma and Charles' opinion totally at odds with their father. She could see in what an awkward position it placed them.

Molly turned to glance at the bedside clock. It was five minutes past six and she realised with a start that she had been daydreaming and was late for dinner. It was too late to consider changing her clothes or tidying herself up although she needed to brush her hair. It took her a couple of minutes to find her hairbrush and then she couldn't find her phone. By the time she rushed downstairs she was ten minutes late. Emma was hovering just outside the dining room looking nervous but relieved when Molly appeared.

"Good, I was getting worried," and then catching sight of the phone in Molly's hand said, "Don't let my father see that. He hates anything intruding on meal times."

Molly hastily shoved her phone into her back pocket without having time to turn it off and Emma led her into the dining room.

"Ah, so you're here, Molly...at last." The General ushered her to a chair opposite Emma and placed himself at the head of the table. Emma indicated that they should serve themselves and Molly took her turn trying not spill anything as her hand shook slightly with the strange formality of the situation. She was conscious of the General appearing to be tetchy following her late arrival and seeking some way of relieving the atmosphere and noticing the unusual design on the rim of the dinner plate in front of her said, "What lovely plates." The use of bold colour combined with a black edged geometric design was very striking and had caught her attention as soon as she sat down.

"Do you like them?" the General said in surprise.

"Yes, I've never seen anything like that before."

"They were made by a local pottery," Emma said hesitantly, "My mother commissioned the design."

The General fixed his eye upon Emma as if suggesting she had said enough. Emma cast her eyes down again.

"Hmm," the General observed, "They're a little Avant Garde in my opinion."

"I suppose that's because she was artistic," Molly said

The General put down his knife and fork and looked at Molly, "Are you familiar with my late wife's work?" Molly couldn't tell if it was genuine enquiry or an accusation.

She shook her head, "No but Emma mentioned that she was a painter."

"Yes, she was," he agreed, "But this," he jabbed at the plate with his forefinger, "is something quite different."

There was an awkward silence and Molly didn't know how to respond. The General glanced at Emma, picked up his knife and fork, began to eat again and changing the subject started to recount the details of the Woodston Carnival that was being held in a couple of weeks.

"Hannah was telling me there will be procession of carnival floats this year and local groups and businesses are taking part as there's going a prize for the best float as well as a funfair and an ox roast." He glanced at both the girls. "It looks as if there'll be high jinks aplenty, you mark my words."

X-X-X-X

Molly shut the door behind her and breathed a sigh of relief. She was tired. It had been a long day and the effort of being around the General was wearing on her nerves. She had almost thought Emma was joking about the General being a stickler for meal times but he had definitely seemed annoyed by the fact she had arrived late and there had been an air of irritation about his manner. Not for the first time today she hoped she had done the right thing by accepting this invitation. Emma had said they might be here for five or six weeks and after only one day six weeks seemed a very long time to contemplate. However, now she appreciated all the more how much Emma needed her there and she was praying that there would be more relaxed moments when the General was not around.

The sound of her phone ringing roused Molly from her thoughts and scooping it out of her back pocket where she had hastily stashed it out of the General's sight, she glanced at the screen. She didn't recognise the number and wondered for a moment whether to ignore it but the phone ringing in her hand was at least a reminder of the outside world and she had an urge to talk to someone else even if it was only a call centre trying to sell her something.

"Hello,"

"Hello, Molly."

Molly knew the voice at once and her stomach flipped in surprise and pleasure. She sat down heavily on the end of the bed.

"Charles, I didn't know you had my number."

"I didn't," he admitted, "but I asked Emma for it in case of emergencies. You don't mind do you?"

 _Did she mind? Of course she didn't_. "No, that's fine," Molly said but added, "Is it an emergency?"

He laughed at the other end, "No, apart from the fact that I really wanted to speak to you and ask how it's going. I thought you might be finding it a bit strange."

It was so kind and thoughtful of him to call she thought, because there was no doubt she felt like a fish out of water here at the moment. "It's not what I'm used to," she admitted, "but Emma's shown me around and we're going over to Woodston tomorrow so that should be good." she tried to sound keen because she didn't want him to think she wasn't enjoying it.

"Well, it's a pretty place," he remarked, "But the pace of life is a lot slower even than Bath. Hope you're ready for it."

There was a pause. Neither of them knew what to say. It was all very polite but awkward until Molly said for want of anything better, "A friend of yours is back here."

"Really? Who?"

"Hannah Spargo," Molly replied.

There was another pause followed by, "God, I thought she was well out of the area," he couldn't hide his surprise at the news.

"No. I met her today, " Molly said in as neutral voice as she could muster. She wasn't going to let him think that she was bothered. "She's keen to catch up with you."

"I see," Charles said. There was nothing in his expression to indicate what he thought about this. "Well, it looks like that could be quite soon, then," he continued. "Because the other reason I called was to tell you that I've managed to swing some leave sooner than I expected and I'll be down on Saturday for a couple of weeks."

The news was very welcome and Molly couldn't help saying, "That's great, Charles."

"I thought so too and I wanted to tell you first. I'll call my father tomorrow."

Molly was touched. His words weren't lost on her but she didn't want to make too much of it. "Well, everyone will be pleased."

There was a pause the other end. "And you?"

He couldn't see her expression but he heard the smile in her voice as she answered, "Definitely, me."


	10. Chapter 10

**_I'm sorry it has taken me a while to update but I've only been able to write in snatches here and there this week due to other commitments. It might take me a while but I never actually stop completely, so I'll try to keep the story moving along._**

 **Chapter Ten**

"So what do you make of Woodston?"

Molly licked the ice cream in her hand and stared out to sea. She and Emma had walked across the causeway at low tide about an hour ago. Emma had assured her they had several hours before they needed to consider returning and Joe Spargo would always ferry them across to Northanger if they left it too late. Woodston was a small seaside village with none of the attractions of larger resorts but it was popular with families wanting a quieter holiday and the campsite at Hillview farm was always busy with campers and touring caravans.

Emma's tour of Woodston had only taken half an hour or so and had involved a poke around in the general store which carried the usual mix of groceries, convenience items, an array of tacky souvenirs and a reasonable supply of beach essentials as well as the proverbial buckets and spades, there had been a glimpse of the interior of St Jude's church which was curtailed by imminent preparations for a late afternoon wedding, a perusal of the menu at the Ship Inn and the purchase of an ice cream from the Beachcomber Cafe. They had wandered down to the harbour and were sitting on a bench to enjoy the ice cream in the sunshine and in answer to Emma's question Molly replied truthfully, "It's quiet."

Emma nodded. "At the moment but it's busier in the school holidays."

"So where do you go for some excitement or to do your shopping?" Molly asked thinking it was going to be hard work to keep herself entertained for five or six weeks in a place as small as Woodston.

"Penzance," Emma replied, "But we'd need a lift. It's about ten miles from here."

"Is there a bus?" Molly asked wondering if public transport extended this far into the depths of the countryside.

"Yes," Emma said with a laugh catching Molly's expression. "I suppose we could get the bus into Penzance but I'd better speak to Dad about it first."

Molly said nothing but was surprised that a girl of twenty felt it necessary to ask her father if she could go shopping.

Molly glanced around her and noticed on the other side of the harbour what looked like an old stone warehouse or shed that seemed to have been converted into a shop. There was a sign hanging from a hook outside which was moving gently back and forth in the breeze.

"What's that?" Molly said pointing towards the building.

Emma followed the direction of her finger, "Oh, that's the local pottery I mentioned last night."

She didn't seem inclined to say anymore but Molly was curious. "Can we go and have a look?"

Emma shrugged. "If you want to."

They strolled around the harbour finishing their ice creams before they reached the building. The hanging sign proclaimed it to be 'Penrose Pottery' and in the window Molly could see examples of plates, vases, jugs and dishes in a variety of styles and coloured glazes but nothing like the dinner plates she had seen yesterday. The sign on the door declared that it was open.

"Shall we go in?" Molly asked

Emma hesitated, "I've been in lots of times before but you go ahead." She was about to turn away when the door opened and a man dressed in a clay splattered apron stepped outside. Catching sight of the girls he called, "Emma, is that you?"

Emma looked up. "Hello, Nat. How are you?"

The man smiled and stepped towards her wiping his hands on the apron. "I'm well and you're looking very well too."

Emma smiled faintly and gestured to Molly. "This is my friend, Molly Dawes. She's spending the summer with us on Northanger."

The man turned to Molly and said, "Nat Mortimer. I'd offer to shake hands but as you see…" he held up his clay encrusted fingers as explanation.

Molly laughed, "Nice to meet you but, no offence, you can keep your hands to yourself."

The man appreciated her sense of humour and laughed good naturedly at this remark.

Molly took a good look at Nat Mortimer and decided that he was an older man who definitely hadn't lost his charms with age, quite the opposite, as his boyish good looks had travelled well into maturity and the flowing golden locks of his youth were still in evidence even if they had faded slightly now that he was in middle age. She could imagine he had spent many a summer on the beach as a young man and that the relaxed pace of life in Woodston would be perfect for someone who gave the impression of not following the herd.

"Can I go in and have a look around?" Molly asked.

"Sure, be my guest," Nat replied.

Molly pushed the door open and called to Emma, "Are you coming?"

Emma shook her head. "I've got a bit of a headache, Molly. I think I'll just go and sit down over there." She pointed to a low wall and moved away.

The building had been divided into two areas: a workshop and a display area where the finished goods were set out for sale on simple wooden shelves. There was no one else in the building and Molly wandered around taking a look at everything. Nat headed towards the workshop area but paused on the way to ask Molly, "Do you like pottery?"

"I don't know much about it, to be honest, but this stuff's nice."

Nat hid his amusement at her description. "Thanks."

"Actually," Molly continued, "I saw some really nice plates yesterday. Emma said they were made here."

He nodded. "The dinner service. I remember it well."

"It's quite different to these." She waved her hand around indicating the other wares on display.

"Mrs James commissioned them and she had a very distinctive pattern in mind. As you say, not like anything I normally do but then she was an artist and she had very clear ideas of what she wanted."

"Was that the sort of thing she painted then?" Molly asked thinking of modern art, "I mean, patterns like that."

Nat looked at her in surprise. "Haven't you seen any of her work?"

Molly shook her head. "No, there's nothing in Abbey House anymore."

Nat gazed out the window and idly scratched his head forgetting about the clay on his hands. "I see. Well, she was more traditional in her style. Being here, she liked to paint seascapes and she also did quite a few landscapes of the countryside of southern Cornwall. She was talented and there were definitely buyers for her work." He turned to face Molly. "So there's nothing at Abbey House at all?"

Molly shook her head. "Emma said her father took them all down and put them away. I s'pose he thought it would be too sad to look at them."

"Yes, I suppose so," Nat agreed. He turned back to his work and busied himself with a freshly made vase still sitting on the turntable of the potter's wheel.

A thought occurred to Molly, "You must have seen Mrs James paintings then, when she was alive."

Nat looked up. "Yes, I did see some of them." He paused as if thinking of something and eventually said, "As a matter of fact everything used to be organised differently here because we shared the premises. Part of the showroom you're standing in was a small gallery that Sylvie used to show her paintings. It was popular with holidaymakers and those passing through."

"Oh, I see." It was no wonder, Molly thought, that Nat Mortimer was familiar with the paintings. He'd obviously spent a lot of time looking at them in the past and must have known Emma's mother quite well if they had been sharing business premises.

"What was she like?" Molly asked, "Only Emma hasn't said much and I don't like to ask her…" she trailed off and it was obvious from Nat's expression that he was aware of Emma's past problems.

He gave a wry smile, "She was a force of nature. When she had her heart set on something she simply went after it no matter what. Take those plates for instance. I'd never produced anything like that before and the design was something quite unusual but her mind was made up and she was determined even if they weren't exactly to her husband's taste." This revelation only confirmed Molly's suspicions of the night before and that the General didn't like the dinner service very much.

"She sounds quite a different sort of person to the General, " Molly said thinking of the General's attitude which seemed more rigid and traditional in outlook.

"Oh I don't know about that." Nat paused as if trying to recall what Sylvie James had really been like before saying, "I think she just saw the world through a different lens to the rest of us."

X-X-X-X

The week had passed more quickly than Molly had imagined possible when she first arrived and on the day after the first visit to Woodston, Molly and Emma were able to go into Penzance. The General had business in St Ives but agreed to take a detour and give them a lift into the town after asking them many questions about where they were going, what they were doing and when they would be back. Once he had dropped them off they spent a pleasant few hours wandering around, looking in the shops and enjoying lunch in a cafe. It had been an overcast and windy day but it hadn't mattered as they were busy in town. At the end of the afternoon they caught the bus back to Woodston and sat on the top deck chatting. As they travelled along the coastal road the bus was battered by rough gusts of wind and as Molly stared out at the choppy waters with white-crested waves to her right, Emma's comment during the Sunday lunch in Bath came to mind and Molly said, "I see what you mean, Emma, about how amazing the waves can look on a stormy day."

Emma pulled a face. "Well, this is mild compared to some days here. Believe me; I've seen the weather far worse."

Molly grimaced. "It must be a bit scary when it's really bad."

Emma nodded. "You realise how much we're all at the mercy of nature sometimes. There have been days when we couldn't leave Northanger because of storms."

A gust of wind caught the bus and caused it to veer to the left. Molly shivered. She didn't like the sound of being cut off on the island. "Does that happen often?"

Emma shook her head. "No, not usually in the summer but in the past we used to come down here in the winter as well and that was different. Mum used to come down here all through the year on her own but we could only make it in the holidays."

"Didn't she find it a lonely?" It had surprised Molly to hear Emma speak of her mother but she thought it must be a good sign.

"No, I think she liked it," Emma said. "As I remember she was very independent but with Dad in the army and away a lot I suppose she had to be and of course, she had her painting."

"And now you do, as well, " Molly replied.

Emma looked unsure, "I don't think I'll ever be like her, not if Dad continues to stop me."

Molly remembered something. "Charles said that you did a painting course last year. That's a start isn't it?"

Emma gave a hollow laugh. "A start and an end in one fell swoop."

Molly didn't understand her meaning and it showed in her face.

"That's how I met Francois. Dad agreed to me going on a residential painting course for a week partly because my consultant thought it would be good for me to do something I enjoy. Francois was on the course as well." Emma fell silent and turned her head to look out the window. Molly remembered now that Charles had apologised for mentioning the course to Emma but Molly hadn't realised why he had said that. Emma looked pensive and Molly wondered if the memories had made her sad. She wanted to ask Emma about Francois but felt that she shouldn't. It was obvious that Emma was starting to trust her and the best thing she could do would be to listen and make no comment for now.

Ten minutes later the bus stopped outside the Ship Inn in Woodston and Molly and Emma were the only two passengers to disembark. The wind was blowing strongly into their faces as they descended the slope towards the harbour. They had returned later than they had planned and Molly, seeing the tide obviously coming in but the causeway still above the waterline said, "Looks like we'll need to get our skates on."

Emma shook her head. "No, we shouldn't go across now."

Molly could quite clearly see the stone causeway stretching all the way to the beach on the other side. "It won't take long, surely?"

Emma turned to look at her. "No, sorry Molly, but it's too late. I'll go and ask Joe if he can ferry us over. Dad gives him an allowance for fuel. He won't mind."

Molly stood and watched Emma walk round to the cottage, knock at the door and then talk to a middle-aged lady who had answered. She assumed from a similarity in her looks and manner that she was Pauline, Hannah's mother. They had the same fresh-faced, complexion and easy-going manner. After a minute or two Joe appeared, pulling on his coat. He was smiling and didn't appear the least put out at being summoned at short notice. Molly turned back to look at the island and almost gasped in astonishment. The causeway had disappeared below the waves in the few minutes it had taken for Emma to walk round to the Spargo's house. When she returned with Joe, Molly said nothing but was thankful that Emma had known better.

It only took five minutes for the little boat to cross the choppy stretch of water for which Molly was grateful as once they reached the open water the wind felt very strong and the rising and falling of the boat was unpleasant. Joe landed them at a small jetty near the slipway and by the time they had reached the track up the hill to Abbey House they could already hear the outboard motor puttering away in the distance as he made his return journey. The track was steep but they were in the lee of the hill and at least the wind was no longer in the their faces but as they reached the front door, the General emerged and Molly could tell at once that he was not pleased.

"Emma, I think you might have called me to let me know you would be late. It's almost six o'clock and I expected you back an hour ago."

Molly felt sorry for Emma who looked anxious. She wasn't a child and although she understood that the General had concerns for her, this was ridiculous. Molly intervened.

"I'm so sorry, General James. It's my fault. I was trying on clothes and made us late leaving and then we got chatting on the way back and I didn't give Emma a chance to call you. I've had a really nice day today and Emma's been so patient and kind putting up with me." She did her best impression of a winning smile and hoped it would defuse the situation.

The General paused and looked from one to the other before saying in a quieter voice, "Well, you're here. Dinner is ready so please come along."

He turned and walked back into the house and Emma couldn't help smiling and raising her eyebrows at Molly in a gesture that clearly told her she had won on this occasion, however, Molly wasn't sure how many time she would be able to play the 'guest' card before the General ceased to mind his manners in her presence.

X-X-X-X

"Charles called and said he'll be arriving at about one o'clock. He asked if we'd like to meet him for lunch in Woodston and I said 'yes'. Is that OK?"

It was Saturday and Emma and Molly were eating a late breakfast. The General had eaten earlier and headed out first thing to catch the low tide and drive to a charity event in Truro. He would be gone for most of the day leaving the girls to enjoy a rare leisurely start to the day. Consequently, they were sitting in the kitchen still wearing their pyjamas and enjoying the relaxed 'weekend' feel to the day that was never entirely possible when Emma's father was present.

Molly suppressed a smile. She already knew that Charles was planning to meet them for lunch. During the four days they had been here, Charles had called Molly three times, each time ostensibly to check that she was settling in and feeling happy with the arrangements. He had called her last night just before she was going to bed to suggest the lunch plan and she had readily agreed. Munching a piece of toast, she nodded and said, "That'll be nice."

Emma nodded, "Yes. It'll be a bit like old times with the three of us here."

Molly wondered for a moment where the old saying 'three's a crowd' featured but no one could ever accuse Emma of crowding anyone out. The friendship between them was genuine and growing in strength by the day. Molly had never had a friend like Emma before and she valued her as much as she valued the friendship and growing attraction between herself and Charles. She wasn't quite sure how it had all begun but she was certain that it existed and the thought of his imminent arrival set butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

Emma glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall, "We'd better hurry or we'll get stuck here or worse still, we'll have to take the boat." She laughed, "You really don't want to experience that. Dad made Joe instruct us all in how to use the boat but I try to avoid it if I can." She shuddered at the thought and wandered upstairs to get dressed whilst Molly glanced out of the window to take a look at the sky. It looked like it would be a nice day. The strong winds of the last two days had died down and although there were fluffy white clouds in the sky there were also plenty of patches of blue. The sun was shining every so often and she felt sure by afternoon it would be lovely. She had the green top with her that she had bought in Bath. It was a good colour for her and she decided to put it on. She wanted to look her best.

X-X-X-X

In all the excitement of being in Bath and then receiving the invitation to Northanger, Molly had forgotten that it was her sister Bella's birthday on Monday and at the very least she needed to send her a card. She and Emma had arrived at the Ship Inn in good time to meet Charles and after Emma had found a table to sit at overlooking the harbour, Molly wandered down to the general store remembering that they had a selection of birthday cards. The choice wasn't very good. Bella was going to be thirteen and, there being nothing really suitable for a teenager, she chose what she considered the least worst option; a pair of cartoon cats. _It's the thought that counts_ she told herself imagining Bella's pained grimace when she opened the card. She bought a stamp, wrote and addressed the card and posted it in the mail box glad that she had remembered in time.

As she hurried back in the direction of the Ship Inn a hundred yards away to her left she heard the clock on St Jude's church strike one. To her surprise the road was quite busy today as it was a weekend and she had to wait for a break in the traffic to cross to the other side. Reaching the Ship Inn, Molly turned the corner heading for the entrance to the bar from the car park and stopped in her tracks. A car had just parked in the far corner. There were only a few spaces remaining given the lovely weather and the fact it was lunchtime on a Saturday in summer. She recognised the car and a smile flew involuntarily to her lips. Charles must have received Emma's text message to say where they were and he was parking up with the intention of coming to find Molly and his sister in the bar. Not wanting to look as if she had been lying in wait, Molly hung back intending to stroll nonchalantly in his direction in a moment or two. She just needed to get the timing right.

Charles got out of the car and stretched his arms out in front of him. He rolled his shoulders slightly and rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand to ease away the stiffness of the drive from Bath. He looked relaxed in low slung jeans with his shirt sleeves rolled up in the warm weather. He turned and reached inside the car for what looked like his wallet before shutting the door and turning to walk towards the pub. Molly poised herself ready to walk towards him already anticipating greeting him and the smile that she hoped would cross his face when he saw her. She took one step in his direction and then heard the creaking hinges of the bar door opening and someone coming out the other way. She froze. Hannah strolled out into the car park carrying some cardboard boxes obviously heading in the direction of the recycling skips located there. She and Charles caught sight of each other at the same moment. Molly could see the surprise rapidly followed by a broad smile that lit up his face. Hannah was equally surprised, raised a hand and called, "Charles!" She strolled towards him, smiling and calling out, "How are you?"

Charles was nodding and saying something in reply but Molly didn't hear what it was because on reaching Charles, Hannah dropped the boxes on the ground and to Molly's surprise threw her arms around him and reached up to kiss him on the cheek. He looked surprised but not unhappy at the welcome and as Hannah stepped back Molly noticed that his hand was still resting lightly on her waist. Hannah was talking animatedly and they both laughed at some remark. Molly thought she could read the words, "It's been such a long time," on his lips and then to Molly's astonishment Hannah reached out with the fingers of her right hand and stroked his cheek. He smiled and caught her hand, lowering it from his face and saying something. She nodded and then stepped away and picked up the boxes. She took a few steps backwards and called, "I'll catch you later," before turning in the direction of the skips. Molly saw a sharp intake of breath from Charles which he then slowly released as if he was trying to calm himself or bring his feelings under control. He glanced in Hannah's direction again but she was still busy. Without another word he set off towards the bar but Molly fancied that he was frowning now.

Molly stood back out of the way and waited for Charles to go into the bar. The last thing she wanted was for him or Hannah to see her lurking here looking as if she was spying, eavesdropping or both. She stood with her back to the wall and waited for Hannah to leave too.

Molly felt strangely cheated. She had been anticipating the look on Charles face when they met again and waiting to see his smile cast in her direction and only for her. She knew she was being stupid to think like this but she hadn't imagined him looking at someone else that same way. She'd heard all the comments and remarks from the General about Charles and Hannah's friendship or whatever it might have been in the past but she'd managed to put that aside. Charles had called her several times in the last week and she'd been eagerly anticipating his arrival but Hannah had unconsciously scuppered the moment by displaying that ease and familiarity again that Molly lacked. She couldn't imagine hugging and kissing someone the way Hannah had just done after such a long absence. Emma had told Molly that it must have been five years at least since they had all seen Hannah and yet she was still perfectly at ease with Charles. For a horrible, suspicious moment Molly wondered if that was really the case. Who was to say that Charles hadn't been in contact with Hannah much more recently?

"Just stop it, "she said aloud for her own benefit shaking her head as if to rid herself of the thoughts. Hearing the words out loud somehow helped. She was sure that Charles liked her from comments he had made and looks he had given her but beyond holding her hand once at Harry's party on that ill-fated night, and having a couple of friendly phone conversations with her this week there wasn't enough to suggest he was about to throw himself at her feet. She almost laughed out loud at that thought. That was definitely one of her Nan's expressions and nothing like the way things really were between them.

Molly had known from the start that Charles wasn't like other men she'd met so it was hardly surprising if she didn't understand the way his mind worked. The Charles and Hannah's of this world were perfectly comfortable, hugging, kissing and being overly familiar with each other. It didn't mean the same in this world as it did in hers. She told herself she was being ridiculous, took a deep breath, walked across the car park and reaching the door to the bar, opened it and went in.

X-X-X-X

Charles looked around the bar and quickly spotted Emma sitting at a table next to the window overlooking the harbour. She was on her own and reading a book. He made a circuitous route through the dining room so that he could sneak up on her and he got the reaction he was hoping for when he peered over Emma's shoulder at the book and made her jump and squeal. She stood up, laughing in relief and hugged him saying, "I should thump you, really."

"Brave words, little sister. But remember, you're dealing with a trained killer."

"Ladykiller would be a better description," Emma remarked. "Talking of which, do you know who's working here?"

Charles glanced in the direction of the bar. "Yes, I happened upon her in the car park. A bit of a turn up for the books."

"It certainly is, " Emma said, "I didn't think she'd ever come back here."

Charles gave her a long look and sitting down opposite her chose to change the subject. "Where's Molly?"

"She just popped out for something," Emma said vaguely. "She said she wouldn't be long."

"How's she enjoying Northanger?"He already knew what Molly thought about it from their phone conversations, but guessed that Molly wouldn't have mentioned them to his sister.

"I think she likes it, although she seems much more relaxed when Dad's not around." They exchanged knowing looks and Emma added, "I suppose that's understandable."

Charles looked towards the island. He couldn't blame Molly for feeling anxious around his father. She was in good company. Plenty of others were intimidated by him. "Oh, well, I hope you told her his bark's worse than his bite."

It was Emma's turn to give Charles a long look before she said quietly, "Is it?"

Before he could respond, Charles' attention was caught by movement to his right and turning his head he saw Molly enter the bar and at once he felt his spirits lift. When Molly caught sight of him she smiled and looked a little self-conscious. He stood up to greet her and to her astonishment stepped forward to kiss her on the cheek, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. She was conscious of the pressure of his hands upon her and for a second she was transported back to the night of the party and thought fleetingly of sitting close to him in his old sports car but then she remembered her thoughts just now seeing him with Hannah and told herself not to make too much out of it. It was a friendly gesture and that was all. She stepped away and sat down next to Emma.

"Did you have a good journey?"

He nodded. "Yes but the journey's end is much better especially today." Molly assumed he was talking about the weather and nodded in agreement.

"So, what have you been up to?"

Molly shrugged, "This and that, you know." She'd already told him in the phone calls and wondered if he was teasing her which wasn't entirely fair in the circumstances. She turned the question around. "What about you?"

He caught her eye and shrugged. "This and that, you know."

Emma dug her brother in the ribs. "Stop it!"

Charles said innocently, "Stop what?"

"Stop treating Molly the same way you treat me," Emma implored with a laugh. "Have some respect, she's not your sister."

He slowly nodded his head and a look of mock seriousness crossed his face. "I'm well aware of that and I'll try to keep it in mind."

"Don't just try," Emma countered, "Promise."

Charles smirked. Emma probably had no idea how easy that would be. He winked at Molly. "Absolutely. Officer and a Gentleman and all that."

Molly felt her earlier resolutions starting to waver. Surely, she wasn't wrong about Charles and the way he was looking at her now did mean something. It wasn't just politeness. She smiled back at him and he held her gaze for a few seconds. She found herself absurdly wanting to laugh for no good reason and realised it was just nerves but he looked as if he felt that way too.

"Can I take your order?" Hannah's voice cut into the moment. She was standing next to the table with a pen and pad in her hand.

Charles looked startled and turned his head to look at her. "Sorry, we haven't had a chance to look at the menu yet, Hannah."

"Oh, no worries," she replied, "I'll give you some more time." She was about to turn away when she added, "How long are you down here for Charles?"

He looked up again. "Two weeks."

She nodded slowly, "I don't suppose I could twist anyone's arm to help me out with something this week, could I?" she grimaced, "It's just that I quite rashly offered to organise the Ship's entry to the Carnival float competition for next weekend and I'm a bit short handed and running out of time. I really could do with some assistance in the artistic department," she glanced at Emma meaningfully, "And a few muscles would be handy too." That look was reserved for Charles.

"I suppose that makes me chief cook and bottle washer, then," Molly added wanting to make a joke of it but determined not to be left out. Her reward was seeing Charles smile at the remark.

Hannah turned to her, "Everyone's help would be really welcome, Molly. Whatever you can do would be appreciated." Her expression was open and friendly but Molly wondered if she meant it.

Emma was the first to respond, "I don't mind, Hannah, but what's the theme?"

"Myths and legends of Cornwall, but we've drawn the best one," Hannah paused dramatically, "King Arthur."

Molly could see Emma's mind starting to turn over ideas already and she said, "That's good. I'll sketch out a few things. Have you got a King Arthur and Guinevere?"

Hannah nodded and Charles said, "Let me guess, you're Guinevere"

Hannah posed red carpet style, "Well, nothing wrong in giving yourself a starring role is there?" she said with a smile.

"Who's King Arthur?" Emma asked.

"Ben Adams. He works here in the evenings when he's not hanging out on the beach or surfing." She didn't sound enthusiastic

"Bad luck, Charles," Emma said patting him sympathetically on the arm.

"Well, there's still a vacancy for Sir Lancelot," Hannah said with a nod in Charles' direction

"Isn't he the one that…" Emma began but Charles swiftly interrupted her.

"I'll think about it, but no promises. Anyway, what about Molly? Do you have a role for her?"

Hannah shrugged, "There aren't a lot of women in the stories but I'm sure we could find Molly something appropriate." She looked in Molly's direction, "If you're not fussy."

Molly returned her gaze. "No, I'm not fussy. Never have been."

They talked about the arrangements with Hannah for a few more minutes whilst they all perused the menu and then Hannah wandered away to give their order to the kitchen.

"I think we just got hustled into that," Charles said with a wry smile. "Sorry, Molly but we'll have to make sure she doesn't steal all our time this week."

"It might be fun, though," Emma said, "And I've got lots of ideas. I'll have to get sketching."

It certainly wasn't what Molly had bargained on this week and she honestly didn't think Charles had intended to get involved either but it looked like some of their week had been planned out for them already whether they liked it or not.

By the time they had finished lunch the tide had come in and Charles knew that he would be unable to take his car over to Northanger for a few hours. Emma decided to buy a sketch pad and some pencils from the general store and settled herself at a table outside the Beachcomber Café with a cold drink as she worked on putting her ideas on paper. Although the tide was in there was still a narrow strip of sand high up on the beach near the dunes which extended the length of the bay and Charles asked Molly if she fancied a walk. She nodded and they set off together in the sunshine.

As they walked side by side, Charles said, "I'm sorry if Hannah seemed rude earlier, I don't think she meant to be. She's really not like that, or at least she never used to be."

"No." It was all Molly could think of to say. She didn't know what to make of Hannah. There had been nothing in her tone of voice or manner to suggest that she had meant to be rude but nonetheless she had made Molly a little uneasy. However, she reasoned with herself that she didn't really know Hannah well although it looked as though she was going to get to know her a lot better in the course of this week.

"Anyway," Charles said casually, "You've already got a very important job."

Molly looked up at him frowning a little in the sun as she wondered what part of the conversation she had missed.

"Keeping up morale." There was a faint smile on his lips. "Well, mine at least."

He reached for her left hand, his strong, warm fingers wrapped around her own and held them fast, the pressure comforting and reassuring to Molly and wordlessly they continued their stroll along the beach, their footsteps falling into an easy, matched rhythm. Molly gazed into the distance and smiled to herself. She needn't have worried. She hadn't been wrong about him.


	11. Chapter 11

**_Thank you to everyone who read and/or reviewed chapter ten. To be honest, I'm not sure that it turned out quite the way it should have, probably because the writing of it was very drawn out. Apologies to anyone who scratched their head and wondered what it was all about. Please bear with me and hopefully it will all make sense… eventually!_**

 **Chapter Eleven**

It had been a long walk but Molly had enjoyed being alone with Charles although for someone who had been looking forward to seeing her again he had said surprisingly little. There had been long periods of silence. Molly assumed these were what other people called companionable silences. She hadn't minded because they didn't seem awkward but once or twice when she had asked Charles a question he hadn't replied or hadn't seemed to be listening and she assumed that he was pre-occupied. Once when she had repeated a question he had blinked and looked surprised she had spoken and she couldn't help remarking, "You look like you're miles away somewhere."

He had shrugged. "Sorry, just tired, I think." He had squeezed her hand. "I am glad you're here, really glad."

She had smiled back at him, pleased to hear this but wondering why he needed to tell her. The fact that he had called her last week, managed to get leave as soon as he could and was here with her now, holding her hand, told her more than any words could that he wanted to be with her and she wanted nothing else.

By the time Molly and Charles had returned from their walk, the tide had uncovered the causeway and Charles said he would fetch his car and take it over to Northanger as he had no plans to go anywhere on Sunday.

"It'll be nice to have a leisurely day." Although he wrinkled his brow and added as an afterthought, "I just remembered that Dad said something about wanting me to do an inspection of the observation post. He's worried it's unsafe and might need sealing up. We get visitors and bird watchers who venture over sometimes so it's best to be on the safe side. You might like to take a look as well, Molly. It's kind of interesting." Molly had nodded her agreement. At this moment even the most humdrum of reasons to be alone with him was welcome.

As they approached the steps leading up from the beach to the promenade Charles released her hand and moved ahead of her. Regaining the promenade they walked side by side back to the Beachcomber Café but he didn't reach for her hand again and she didn't feel that she ought to do so either sensing that he didn't want to make his feelings public or at least not yet. When they found Emma she was still sitting at the table outside and she looked up from her sketch pad and greeted them with, "I thought you'd got lost. I ended up having to buy two cups of tea and a cream cake." She glanced from one to the other and Charles said hastily, "We were just chatting and forgot the time. Let's have a look at the sketches."

Emma passed over her sketch book. She had filled a dozen pages with ideas for the carnival float and Molly was impressed by the drawings.

"Do you think you can make that on a float?"

"I think so," Emma replied. "But we'll have to get on with the painting right away or we'll never have enough time. It's next Saturday."

Charles rolled his eyes. "Looks like a lot of work. Are you sure you want to do this?"

Emma gave him a strange look. "Does it bother you if I do?"

To Molly's ears it didn't sound as if Emma was being petulant it sounded more like an enquiry.

"No. Do whatever you like. It's your business."

"Are you going to help?" Emma asked.

Charles shrugged. "Do I have a choice? She twisted your arm pretty quickly."

"Meaning what?"

He sighed. "She knows people's weaknesses. She's taken this on without thinking too much about what's involved and left it to the last minute. She knew you'd love to help out with the arty stuff. Only it won't be helping out, you'll find yourself or, better still, _we'll_ find ourselves doing all of it. Same old Hannah!"

Molly listened to this exchange in fascinated silence. She thought of the initial greeting she had witnessed in the car park between Charles and Hannah. Charles had seemed genuinely pleased to see Hannah but from what Emma had said five years or more had passed. During the last two hours he seemed to have had a change of sentiment and he appeared slightly irritated by Emma's enthusiasm for the project. He pushed back his chair from the table and stood up.

"I'm going to fetch the car. Are you ready to leave?" He sounded tired.

Emma nodded and they agreed to meet him at the slipway.

Molly watched him stroll away. There was something about his gait that told her he wasn't entirely at ease. Something had changed since they had set out on the walk but she wasn't sure what.

Molly frowned. "I thought Charles liked Hannah."

Emma was preparing to collect her belongings together and stand up as well. She glanced at Molly. "Yes. Or perhaps I should say yes he did. After all, they haven't seen each other for years." She lowered her voice as if fearful someone would overhear. "When she went, she left quite suddenly towards the end of the summer. She didn't give notice on her summer job, she wrote a note for Joe and Pauline and there were no goodbyes to any of us either. All we've ever heard since then are snippets from Joe and Pauline when we've been here on holiday. It was strange. Just like her turning up here again was sudden and strange."

"Your father said Hannah and Charles were inseparable when they were children."

Emma considered this. "Well, it's true that they were good friends for many years. I don't really remember what they were like back then because I was too young. The thing is, though, that Charles is right about Hannah. I'd just forgotten after all this time. Everyone likes her. You heard my Dad talking about her, he thinks she's great but the truth is that she was always getting away with things in those days because she can charm people. That's what Charles meant about this carnival stuff."

It sounded to Molly as if Charles' initial pleasure at seeing an old friend had quickly subsided when it became obvious that she hadn't changed very much in the intervening period. She wondered now exactly what he had been thinking about during that long walk in which he hadn't said very much. From the way he had seem mildly irritated when they returned she guessed that his thoughts hadn't really been about her and she couldn't understand why he was so bothered. It was Emma who would be taking on most of the work and she seemed happy to do so.

"I know Charles thinks Hannah's taking advantage but actually, I'm quite looking forward to it." Emma's expression was animated, her eyes bright and she was clearly relishing the challenge.

Molly smiled at her. "It'll give you a chance to show everyone how good you are."

It was unspoken between them but they both knew Molly was thinking of the General.

X-X-X-X

The steep cliffs on the southern coast of Northanger were home to many species of seabird. As Molly and Charles strolled along the coastal path on Sunday morning heading towards the old observation post, he pointed out razorbills and guillemots and several types of gull. To Molly he seemed more like himself this morning; more like the Charles she had come to know in Bath. Perhaps he really had just been tired yesterday. He had certainly been quiet in the evening. They had eaten dinner on their return to Northanger which had been conducted in a relatively sombre atmosphere as the General had returned from his day in Truro and much of the conversation had revolved around Charles' work and acquaintances they had in common. Later, Charles, Emma and Molly had sat outside with a drink watching the sun setting and the light fading. Gazing across to the twinkling lights of Woodston, Emma said, "It'll be a lot busier next Saturday. You won't know the place, Molly."

Charles had scoffed, "What an exciting picture, Emma. The bright lights of Woodston tempting you across the water."

Molly could tell he was joking but he still sounded a little irritable and she wanted to counter it saying, "Well I can't wait."

Charles had only smiled faintly as he replied, "Then I hope it meets your expectations."

This morning he seemed much brighter and he had been in good spirits at breakfast when he had repeated his invitation to her to take a stroll up to the observation post. Then to Molly's surprise he had asked Emma too. Emma, however, had declined saying she was going to do some more work on her sketches and excused herself shortly afterwards. Molly was surprised at the appeal to his sister but assumed that Charles didn't want to make Emma feel excluded knowing what good friends she had become with Molly.

Northanger was small and it only took Molly and Charles ten minutes to walk along the narrow clifftop path to the observation post on the opposite side of the island. The path was too narrow to admit two people side by side and Molly followed on behind him. The weather had turned overnight and it was now overcast and a stiff breeze caught them square in the face as they reached the top of the cliff out of the protection of the hillside. Molly was glad she had put on her coat because it was surprisingly chilly considering how warm and sunny the last few days had been.

"Good old British summer," she said through gritted teeth.

Charles gazed up at the sky and pulled a face. "Looks like it could turn stormy later."

"Really?" Molly said not liking the sound of his prediction and seeing nothing but a few grey clouds in the sky.

He nodded. "It's rough out there and the wind's getting up plus there's just a certain something about the air today." He stood still and gazed into the distance as if sensing something mysterious and invisible to the naked eye.

Molly stared at him in wonder. "You can tell from the air?"

Charles cleared his throat, "Well, maybe, although the local radio forecast helped too."

Molly laughed. "You got me there."

He laughed too and she thought how much more relaxed he looked. A gust of wind caught them and he held out his hand, "Come on there's some shelter up at the observation post." She took his hand and allowed him to lead her along the path the rest of the way.

Molly hadn't been sure of what to expect but it turned out to be nothing more than a low roofed hexagonal shaped concrete pill box perched on the edge of the cliff with narrow slits looking out to sea. There was a short flight of steps leading down to a small entrance at the rear. There must once have been a door there but only the hinges remained now. Charles pulled out a torch from his jacket pocket and bent his head as he entered the bunker.

"Come in," he called nodding his head in the direction of the interior.

"Is it safe?" Molly replied warily remembering his words about the possible need to seal it up.

"Oh, I don't think it's about to fall into the sea anytime soon but be careful the floor's a bit uneven now."

Gingerly, Molly stepped down and entered the bunker. It was cold, dank and smelled musty. She wrinkled her nose and Charles caught her expression in the torchlight and said with a laugh, "I swear it's the building although after a few months in Afghan I probably smelled as bad."

"Ugh," Molly giggled, "too much information."

"Well that's war, Molly. Never very pleasant." He swept around the interior with the torch. "I daresay the soldiers posted here in World War Two didn't enjoy the best of conditions either, although they at least only had to do twelve hour watches and then went back to civilisation."

"What were they doing here in the war?"

"On invasion watch to start with, I suppose, and then looking out for German E boats which patrolled the channel and sometimes came in quite close under cover of darkness. Just keeping watch for any unusual shipping movements."

Molly shivered. "It must have been cold and boring."

Charles nodded. "It is. But it's necessary."

"Do you have to do watches like that?"

"Not here but I did in Afghan sometimes. Not as often as the enlisted men, mind you. There are some privileges of rank. It was boring but certainly not cold there."

"Dangerous, though," Molly observed.

Charles sighed. "Well that's also war for you. Long periods of boredom interspersed with brief moments of terror."

It was a sobering thought and they fell silent. Molly wandered towards one of the slits in the wall and looked out taking in the view. There was nothing but an expanse of grey water. She couldn't imagine having to stand here for hours on end scanning the sea with binoculars.

"How on earth do you stop yourself going mad?"

"Doing watches or in general?"

Molly shrugged. "Both, I suppose."

"When you're on tour it's amazing what you can find to entertain yourself. We used to have competitions, in-jokes, lots of banter anything really to keep up morale and of course, letters, parcels, messages, phone calls from home all mean so much. When you're so far away from everything familiar it really focuses your mind on what's important and those are the people you care about at home and the man standing next to you when you're on patrol."

He shone the torch at the wall just to Molly's left. "Look at that."

Molly bent to see what he was indicating and saw some graffiti scrawled on the wall and read aloud, "Tom Parsons loves Betty Watkins June 1941."

"I suppose Tom was doing something similar back then," Charles said. "Thinking about how important Betty was to him and recording it for posterity."

Molly smiled. "I wonder if Tom and Betty got together. Maybe they got married, had children, lived happily ever after. Perhaps they're a lovely old pair of pensioners now."

Charles exhaled. "I suppose we'll never know but let's hope so."

Charles stepped away and started inspecting the observation post in earnest, checking the walls and floors for any further signs of decay or imminent danger and Molly, fed up of the smell inside, moved outside into the fresh air to stand slightly out of the wind near the steps until he had finished. He came out and turned off the torch.

"Look's alright to me. I'll report back to Dad and if he wants to he can take a look himself. Shall we go back?"

"Can we walk all the way round the island?" Molly asked pointing in the opposite direction to the way they had come.

Charles shook his head, "No, the path peters out a bit further on. There's only one way up and back."

Molly started out towards Abbey House. The wind had strengthened and her hands were cold. She dug them deep into her coat pockets and turned up her collar.

"I don't know about you," Charles said, "but I could do with a cup of coffee. Ever tried Rosabaya?"

Molly shook her head. "Sounds like hand cream."

He laughed again, "You should try it. You'll love it."

Molly pulled a face. "If it's all the same to you I'll give it a miss. A teabag will do me."

X-X-X-X

The moment Emma mentioned the painting, Molly realised she had made a mistake. They were all sitting in the dining room eating dinner. The winds had steadily picked up all day and developed into the storm accompanied by rain that Charles had predicted. Although they were partially protected in the lee of the hill the wind rattled at the old windows and whistled around the building and Molly remembered Emma's words about being cut off in bad weather and hoped it wouldn't be the case this time, apart from the bonus that Charles was now with them.

They had discussed a variety of local topics and amongst them the carnival and Emma's involvement with the Ship Inn entry. Emma was describing some of her ideas to them all for background scenes and her inspiration.

"Do you remember that painting Mum did of the cove at Porthcurno. The way she painted the sea there was incredible. That's how I want my scene to look." She turned to her father. "Dad, do you think I could go and have a look at the painting. It would really help."

The General put down his knife and fork and gazed at her long and hard, weighing up his words before saying, "It's out of the question."

Emma glanced at Charles looking to him for support and taking the hint he said, "Surely, it wouldn't hurt for Emma to go and have a quick look. She's really set her heart on doing everyone proud next week."

Emma joined in hoping to stir her father's competitive spirit, "There's a prize for the best design. Nat Mortimer's made a special trophy plate for the occasion."

"Mortimer," The General said with thinly disguised disgust. "I might have guessed he'd be involved with all of this."

"He's not involved," Emma cried. "He just made the prize, that's all."

Emma's voice was rising and Molly could tell she was starting to get upset. She wanted to say something but she knew it wasn't her business.

Emma had taken a deep breath and composed herself. "I know you only stored the paintings away because you were worried about me but I'm much stronger now, Dad. I want to see them again. I'm ready. Please."

She was pleading with her father but he remained resolute. "No Emma, I can't agree to it."

"You mean you won't." she cried pushing her chair back from the table with a scrape on the floor as she stood up. "You can't keep trying to protect me like this. I need to go out and live my own life. Mum would have wanted me to do that. You never stopped her doing what she wanted but you seem determined to run my life for me." Her voice started to break and Molly could see tears in her eyes.

"Dad…" Charles began again but the General put up his hand.

"I've told you my decision. It is not up for discussion." He didn't move. His expression was implacable and everyone knew he wouldn't change his mind.

Emma turned and left the room, slamming the door behind her and Molly sat in embarrassed silence not knowing whether to look at Charles or the General. In the end she said very quietly. "Please would you excuse me," and not waiting for an answer stood up and left the room.

Emma was in her bedroom and when Molly knocked quietly and said, "It's me," a small voice within called, "Come in." Emma was sitting on the end of the bed and had clearly been crying. Although she had wiped away the tears her eyes were red and it looked as if they might start to fall again at any moment.

"I'm such a fool. I should have known what he'd say but I just thought he'd be happy to see me doing something like this especially when I told him Hannah had asked me. You know what he thinks of her."

Molly made no comment. She was trying not to think about Hannah.

"He just can't see that I've grown up and I have learned to cope with everything now. I want to see those paintings. I don't know why he can't understand that."

Molly sat down next to her friend and put a consoling arm around her shoulders. "Do you have to ask his permission? If the paintings are stored away somewhere here why don't you just go and have a look yourself?"

Emma shook her head. "They're locked away in Mum's old studio in the tower and he's got the key."

"Can't you get hold of it one day when he's out?"

"No, it's in the desk drawer in the Study and he keeps the room locked when he's not in there." She turned her face to look at Molly, "You see. Short of breaking the door down there's nothing I can do. I just wanted to look at it again. To see the brush strokes on the canvas and just feel as if I was close to her again."

Molly nodded. She understood even if the General didn't. Emma had reached the point where she needed to remember everything about her mother. She could handle everything now but her father was no longer helping but hindering her.

"Let's go and find Charles," Molly suggested. "I bet he can cheer you up. Cos, I'm doing a rotten job."

"Don't say that. You're brilliant Molly."

Molly didn't feel as if she deserved the accolade especially when Emma said she didn't feel like going downstairs again and couldn't be persuaded.

"I think I'll just have a bath and read a book."

Ten minutes later Molly found Charles waiting in the hall.

"Have you seen Emma?"

"Yes. She doesn't want to come down again."

He grimaced at the news but said nothing apart from, "It's going to take time to work on Dad. He's not someone to be easily shaken from his convictions."

A gust of wind whistled around the building and a door slammed somewhere in the distance making Molly jump and giggle nervously. They stood rather awkwardly for a moment or two not knowing what to do next until Charles said, "What are you like at snooker?"

Molly pulled a face. "Pretty shit if it's anything like Pool."

He rubbed his hands together in anticipation and grinned, "Oh good. Shall we play for money?"

X-X-X-X

By half past nine Molly's patience with Snooker was at an end. Abbey House was fortunate to have a large Games Room housing a full size Snooker table and in spite of Charles spending a lot of time instructing her in the finer points of the game and standing behind her, holding her cue arm and generally trying to improve her posture and technique, her appraisal of her skills was proving accurate. She slumped down in a chair. "Sorry, I'm not much use at this. Good job I didn't take you up on the money offer."

"Well it wouldn't have been a fair fight anyway."

"What fight is this?"

The General walked into the room just as the wind howled around the building, the rain lashed at the windows and the lights flickered overhead. Charles glanced up and shivered slightly before replying, "Molly's not really a fan of Snooker whereas you, Dad, have spent many a night in the Mess hustling unsuspecting subalterns."

"I resent that suggestion," the General said with a faint smile. "I never hustled anyone below the rank of Major."

"So, do you fancy a fair fight now?"

Charles knew his father too well. He couldn't resist a challenge.

"I actually came in to ask you about the Observation Post. I was writing a letter to the landlord but seeing as you've laid down the gauntlet, very well, put a tenner on it."

Charles nodded and they prepared to cue up the balls for a frame.

Molly stood up. As much as she liked being with Charles she had no desire to watch a long frame of Snooker.

"I think I'll head up to bed. I'm a bit tired."

Charles looked up from the table and she could see disappointment in his expression but he had the good grace to smile at her.

"Goodnight."

The General echoed his words and Molly slipped from the room to make her way upstairs.

Just before she reached the main staircase Molly passed the General's Study and to her surprise saw the door standing ajar and beyond it his desk. She paused and stared through the open doorway. In the distance she could hear the sound of the break-off as the red balls split and rolled over the green baize and Charles speaking to his father. She stared at the desk and remembered what Emma had said about her mother's Studio. She had tried not to get involved in the family argument but in her heart she was sure that Emma was right and her father was wrong. She knew from her own experience that the General was controlling Emma's life too tightly. She wondered whether she could take the key and give it to Emma but then she realised it might be missed and Emma would be the first suspect even if the General normally kept the Study door locked.

Molly felt her heart beating very quickly in her chest. All Emma wanted was to see the painting. Could she get the key and fetch her? There was every chance by now, however, that Emma had gone to bed and time was short. In the back pocket of her jeans she felt her phone and an idea came to her. What if she took the key and made her way up to the Studio right now? It wasn't quite the same but perhaps she could take some photos of the paintings and give them to Emma. It would be something and at least Emma wouldn't have defied her father. Time was short and she needed to make a decision. She closed her eyes and then willed herself to do this. She stepped into the Study and made her way over to the desk. If the drawers were locked she would leave and go to bed as she had said. She reached out and pulled open the left hand drawer. There was nothing inside other than some envelopes and writing paper. She moved swiftly over to the right and pulled open the drawer. Among the pens, pencils and stationery items she saw a large old-fashioned iron key about four inches long. The tower was old, the oldest part of the house. There was every chance this was the right key. She picked it up and held it in her hand. It was too large to fit in her pocket. She paused and listened again. Charles and the General were still chatting. She must hurry.

Emma had told her on her first day that the tower could be reached via a door which led from a passageway at the top of the back stairs. There were utility and storage rooms up there on the first floor. She hadn't taken Molly up there but Molly knew that the back stairs were accessed through the kitchen. She took a deep breath and headed in that direction as quickly as she could. She crossed the kitchen and threw open the door to the backstairs. They were old and creaked and even though she knew Charles and the General were too far away to hear she tried to climb them as quietly as she could. When she reached the top of the landing she glanced to her left and saw the old wooden door which led to the tower. She took two steps in its direction.

The lights went out. It was pitch black, the darkness so complete that it almost felt as if it were pressing against Molly. She stood still and held her breath, waiting for the power to come back on and the bulb in the passageway to flicker back into life. Five seconds passed and then another ten but still no light. She tried to remember the layout of the passageway and what had been directly to her right and left and felt along the wall with her right hand eventually making contact with a piece of solid wooden furniture, possibly a cupboard. She tried to move to her left and caught her shin on something hard and sharp. "Shit," she bent down to rub her shin with her hand and was shocked to bump her head on the furniture to her right. It smarted painfully and she winced and rubbed the skin just above her eye with the heel of her hand. She stood still again and took a couple of deep breaths. She had never liked the dark very much and it was very different here to the darkness of a big city where street lamps, shops, offices and traffic never allowed it to be truly dark the way it was in the countryside. In the darkness she was ever more conscious of the wind and rain and took a couple of deep breaths to steady her nerves.

She waited another minute or perhaps it was less but she couldn't tell. It was no good she was going to have to try to find her way back down the stairs and get out of here. She had to get the key back but she knew that it would mean negotiating the steep, old creaky staircase in the dark. She cursed herself for being so stupid. She was going to get in so much trouble. What on earth had she been hoping to achieve? Just because the General had upset Emma at dinner and she thought he was in the wrong it hadn't given her the right to go behind everyone's back and do this. Her only hope was that the General would be stuck in the darkness in the Games Room waiting for the power to return as well.

She thought she could find her way back to his study and hopefully slip the key back in his desk without him knowing. She felt along the wall and gingerly started to take steps forward until with relief she felt the newel at the top of the staircase. All she had to do was to step down as slowly and quietly as she could. She took the first steps and then caught sight of a small beam of light through the crack in the door at the bottom and heard the sound of footsteps approaching across the flagstones of the kitchen below. She froze on the spot fearing it was the General. The footsteps paused at the bottom of the stairs and then to her horror, she heard the creak of the first stair swiftly followed by another. Someone was coming up towards her. She daren't move and her heart was thumping in her chest. She would have to go back. She turned and the stair creaked ominously.

"Who's there?"

It was Charles. For a brief second relief washed over her but it was swiftly followed by the realisation that she had no reason for being here but there was no escaping him. The beam of light was directed to the head of the stairs and picked her out.

"Molly!" His surprise was obvious and the stairs creaked as he ascended towards her. As he reached her he lowered the torch and in the shadows she could see his confused expression. "What are you doing?"

"I … just felt like a..walk." She wanted to kick herself for saying something so stupid.

"Really?"

"Yeah, couldn't sleep."

He shone the torch over her and noted the fact that she was dressed.

"Do you always sleep fully clothed?" She detected a note of humour in his voice.

"I didn't bring a dressing gown or anything and I didn't want to shock anyone." She tried to make a joke and she saw the corners of his mouth twitch as if he was trying to suppress a smile.

"I see. Well, I suppose it's best to be prepared and all that." She knew he was laughing at her now.

"Must be taking a leaf out of your book, then, seeing as you were in the boy scouts," she countered.

"Weren't you in the Brownies or anything?"

"What do you think?" In spite of herself she was struggling not to laugh now.

"I'll take that as a no, then," he replied. "Glad to see I'm rubbing off on you, though."

He stepped a little closer and with his free hand reached for her right hand. It was the hand holding the key. She didn't know what to do. She was trapped and about to be exposed. She couldn't let him find the key and then, mercifully, Ingrid Bergman came to her rescue. Molly flung both her arms around Charles. He was startled for a second or two but it didn't last as he welcomed the sudden invitation and instinctively his arms slid around her waist. Her body was pressed in close to him she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face, sense his lips close to hers and knew he was about to kiss her and yet she was distracted by the need to hold onto the key in her hand behind his back and not drop it. Throwing it onto the stairs here would be a dead giveaway as it clattered its way down two flights of ancient oak. The last thing she wanted was him knowing about her well-meaning but misguided attempt to snoop. Charles' lips brushed tantalisingly against Molly's. She sighed and a tingle ran down her spine as she anticipated the moment they committed in earnest. He was pulling her closer to him and she was conflicted between desire and fear but at this moment she knew which was winning the battle.

"Charles!"

The General's commanding voice echoed through the kitchen. Molly could hear him walking towards them and caught sight of the powerful torchlight beam heading in their direction.

"Where are you? I need some help with the generator."

Charles sighed, released Molly from his embrace and stepped hastily away from her whispering, "Sorry," and running his fingers through his hair in a gesture of exasperation.

Molly stepped back up onto the landing and into the shadows not wanting the General to see her, particularly as she wasn't supposed to be here and Charles seemed to have the same idea. He hastily descended to the kitchen calling, "I was just checking the upstairs fuse box."

Molly remained motionless until she heard the footsteps of Charles and the General fading into the distance. She closed her eyes and breathed out. That had been a close call in more ways than one. She'd been racked with nerves and embarrassment at being caught almost red-handed and then thrown into emotional disarray by Charles. He must have wondered what on earth she was doing flinging herself at him with sudden uncharacteristic abandon like that, not that he had seemed to mind. She couldn't decide if she was relieved to get away with being where she shouldn't have been or disappointed to be cheated of a kiss thanks to the General. On balance the latter won out but there was no time to dwell on this. Now was her moment to return the key whilst Charles and the General were outside fixing the generator.

She rapidly descended the stairs, not caring how much they creaked and found her way to the General's study which was still, thankfully, open. She felt her way to the desk and was just slipping the key back inside the top right hand drawer when all the lights in the house suddenly came on again. They must have fixed the generator and she had made it in the nick of time.

She rushed out of the room and hurried towards the main staircase just in time to encounter the General and Charles returning from outside. Charles looked damp and windswept and he had grimy hands. He had clearly been the one to do the hands-on work.

"Nothing to worry about," the General informed Molly. "The generator's a bit temperamental but it's served us well over the years. Sorry it disturbed you."

Molly shook her head. "It's fine. I was just going to get a drink from the kitchen and got caught in the dark."

"Jolly good. Well, goodnight again."

The General headed in the direction of his Study and Molly cast her eyes towards Charles. He was standing there watching her with a smirk on his face.

"You're quick with the excuses, aren't you?"

"So are you. What was all that about the fuse box?"

Charles frowned. "That was true. There is a fuse box up there."

Molly shrugged. "Well, I _was_ going for a walk."

He nodded slowly. "OK, if you say so." He stepped a little closer to her. "But that's just a dead end up there. There's nothing to see. Or am I missing something?"

"I didn't know what was up there," Molly replied wondering if he was serious, "and then the lights went out."

He narrowed his eyes. "If I was the suspicious type I'd think you'd gone exploring. But why?"

"Are you the suspicious type?" Molly asked trying to sound light hearted but wondering if he had guessed what she was doing.

Charles shook his head. "No, I'm not suspicious but I'm definitely curious about you." He had moved even closer to her now. "I can't help it."

The kitchen door opened again and they hastily moved apart as the General appeared carrying an empty whisky bottle.

"Need a refill," he supplied in explanation heading for the larder.

Molly glanced at Charles, wondering what he had really meant just now. As much as she was deeply attracted to him she didn't want this conversation to go any further this evening. There was a danger he might start asking more questions and in spite of the fact he supported Emma she couldn't help thinking he wouldn't like the idea that she had taken the key from his father's desk without asking. She pointed to his grimy hands.

"You'd better go and wash those." Without a moment's pause, she turned away from him and hurried out into the hall calling over her shoulder, "Goodnight."

Charles stood in the kitchen with a bemused expression on his face. _Strange girl._ One minute, much to his surprise but pleasantly so, before his father's ill-timed appearance, she'd been all over him and now she was in a hurry to get away as if she was Cinderella fearing the stroke of midnight. He thought he'd made it obvious he was attracted to her and was pretty sure she'd given him the same signals and let's face it she'd given him more than a signal a little while ago but he now felt as if she'd just pushed him back to arm's length again as if he'd overstepped the mark somehow and, he thought ruefully, it couldn't really be because he needed to wash his hands. He sighed and shook his head. He was confused and slightly frustrated. He'd been more than ready to continue where they'd left off on the stairs just now but she had left him stranded.

He was disturbed from his thoughts by his father returning from the larder bearing a bottle of single malt.

"Fancy a nightcap, Charles?"

It was late and Charles feared he would end up mulling everything over until the small hours and getting nowhere if he didn't dull the edges of his wakefulness.

"Thanks. I think I could use one."

X-X-X-X

Molly stood in the darkness of her room with her back to her bedroom door. She sighed in annoyance. She was exasperated at herself. _Shit._ She'd caught the expression on Charles' face as she turned to leave the kitchen. He must think she was mad. It was all her own fault, of course. She had acted rashly and the end result was that she looked nothing better than a tease. She didn't think he was the type of man who would put up with that sort of behaviour for long. He'd walk away rather than be messed around by someone who couldn't make up their mind what they wanted. Everything had been moving along surely and steadily. She hadn't wanted to rush things and now she'd thrown a spanner in the works. She just hoped it hadn't done any damage.


	12. Chapter 12

**_Thank you for all your reviews for Chapter Eleven. I seem to be apologising every week for the delay in updating – so sorry again but I have a proper excuse of having been under the weather so I've missed a few days of writing this week. Thanks for being patient. I appreciate it._**

 **Chapter Twelve**

 _Hi Molly. Could you do me a big favour?_

The ping of the text message alert had woken Molly and when she glanced at the screen she was surprised to see that not only was it seven o'clock in the morning but that the sender was Izzy. She had heard nothing from her erstwhile friend since leaving Bath and that final telephone conversation when she had informed Izzy she was going to Cornwall. She had assumed that it was 'out of sight out of mind' as far as Izzy was concerned so the unexpected text message so early in the morning surprised her. She scrolled down.

 _Could you ask Harry's sister or brother to get him to call me? He's not answering when I call or replying to my texts and I need to speak to him._

Molly remembered Charles' words at the party about Harry's transient attitude to women and was not surprised. She had recognised Harry's voice in the background during that last telephone call. Clearly Izzy and Harry had picked up where they left off after the party and she assumed that Jimmy Morland was now out of the picture altogether. From what Izzy was saying, however, it appeared as if Harry had now given her the brush off which wouldn't surprise Charles or Emma. In the circumstances Molly felt very reluctant to mention Izzy's request.

As an afterthought or maybe because she thought she ought not to sound totally selfish if she wanted to obtain Molly's help, Izzy had added:

 _Jack misses you. He says he can't wait to see you. Why don't you call him?_

Molly sighed and threw the phone down on the bed in disgust. There was no way on earth she was calling Jack Thorpe for a chat. She had enough trouble, in her own mind, with appealing to a man to whom she was really attracted without talking to someone she couldn't stand.

She fell back on the pillows and stared at the patterns cast by the early morning sunlight on the ceiling and thought about the past couple of days. After the incident with Charles on the back stairs during the storm on Sunday night and her subsequent concern that he would realise she had been snooping and think very badly of her she'd ended up making the situation worse by being discouraging towards him. When she'd seen him at breakfast the following morning he had been noticeably less warm towards her. He had been polite but not said very much and she fancied that he looked at her less and seemed a bit distant. He'd excused himself quite early and left the dining room before Molly and Emma had finished, saying he was going for a walk. Molly had been concerned and asked Emma if she thought he was alright. "Why wouldn't he be?" Emma had replied in all innocence and Molly had been forced to say something vague about him not seeming himself. Emma had shrugged and thought no more of it not realising that Molly's main concern was whether she was responsible for the mood change.

They hadn't seen Charles again that morning and just before lunch Emma had suggested they cross over to Woodston as Hannah had informed her that she'd sourced some materials for the float. They had walked across the causeway and found Hannah at Nat Mortimer's pottery. Nat had a large storage shed at the rear of the building and was permitting them to use it during the next few days for the scene painting and storage. Hannah was already there when they arrived and she showed Emma the sheets of plywood, giant cardboard tubes and industrial size sheets of card that she had obtained as well as a variety of paints in large containers. Emma was impressed when the shed was unlocked to reveal the large haul of materials.

"Where did you get it all?"

Hannah had looked pleased with herself and was unable to hide a smile of triumph. "You just need to speak to the right people."

"Well you have the gift of the gab and no mistake," Emma said with a laugh and turning to Molly advised her, "Hannah's a champion scrounger."

"Do you mind?" Hannah pretended to be offended.

"I don't mind at all. This is brilliant, Hannah. I can't wait to get started."

Emma began to poke around the materials and looking at the tins of the paints on the floor started to sort them into shades and finishes.

Hannah turned to Molly. "So, do you still fancy a role on the float, Molly?"

Molly regarded her wondering what to say. Hannah had informed them on Saturday that there weren't many roles for women and she was already playing Queen Guinevere. Molly supposed she was about to offer her something like a serving wench and wasn't sure. She shrugged.

"I don't know. I thought you said it would be difficult."

"Oh, no, you're in luck, I've thought of another important character now."

Molly waited.

"Morgan Le Fay. How does that sound?"

Molly had no idea who Morgan Le Fay was but wanting to show willing and conscious that Charles would also be on the float and she didn't want Hannah to have everything her own way she had agreed.

"Great," Hannah said enthusiastically. "You'll need to go and see my mum tomorrow and she'll sort you out a costume. The fabric warehouse in Penzance have donated me some fabric and oddments and she's brilliant with a sewing machine." A broad smile spread across her face and she clapped her hands together in apparent self-congratulation. "This is going to be brilliant. I can't wait."

Later as they had crossed the causeway on their way back to Abbey House Emma had said, "Did I hear Hannah offering you a character for the float?"

"Yeah. Someone called Morgan Le Fay or something like that."

"Morgan Le Fay?" Emma repeated and stifled a giggle.

"Is it funny or something?"

"No, not at all," Emma said with an effort, "She was definitely part of the Arthurian legends. Quite an important part, actually."

"So what's her story, then?" Molly was growing more interested.

"Well," Emma paused, "she was a… witch."

Thinking about it now, almost twenty four hours later, Molly still couldn't help feeling that Hannah had chosen the role deliberately. Even though Emma had spent five minutes telling her the story of Morgan Le Fay, in her current state of mind it seemed appropriate that Hannah had cast herself as Queen of Camelot, Charles as a knight in shining armour and Molly as something akin to the force of darkness. She was going to see Pauline Spargo later that day to be measured for her outfit. She sincerely hoped she wasn't going to have to don a Halloween costume and black out her teeth or wear false warts. She rolled her eyes at this thought. It would be the perfect way to make her look ridiculous whilst Hannah swanned around in a crown looking the epitome of a heroine.

Then there was Charles to contend with. When she and Emma had returned from Woodston he and the General were nowhere to be seen until Emma had received a text message from Charles announcing he had gone with his father to meet the landlord of Northanger Island to discuss the ground rent of Abbey House and several other maintenance issues. He had said they would be back by dinner but that hadn't been the case. They had been wined and dined by the Landlord, a former Navy man, and returned late in the evening just as Molly and Emma were going to bed. To Molly's amusement, the General had given the impression of having imbibed more than recommended although he maintained his military bearing throughout. Because of the lateness of the hour they had been ferried over by Joe Spargo having left their car at Woodston harbour. Molly and Emma had heard their approach up the hill on foot, or rather the Generals' approach as he had been singing a few old mess songs and urging Charles quite loudly to join in.

As the pair of them emerged into the hall to encounter the girls heading up the stairs to bed it was apparent to Molly that Charles was stone cold sober and not in a particularly good mood. Charles and Emma exchanged glances and when the General had tried to urge Charles to join him in a nightcap Charles had declined and suggested some coffee instead which hadn't gone down well. The General had wandered off to his study and Charles had stood in the hall looking weary, hands on hips as he gazed up the stairs with a faint smile on his face.

"How was your day?"

Emma grinned back at him. "Great. Better than your's by the looks of it. Hannah's got loads of stuff for the float and I'm starting work tomorrow and Molly's got a role for Saturday."

Charles raised his eyebrows. "That's good. "

He hadn't asked what she was doing and Molly wondered if he was interested.

"It's nothing exciting," Molly said.

"Anyway," Emma continued, "It's all hands on deck tomorrow. I hope you've got some overalls with you, Charles. There's a paint roller with your name on it."

Charles grimaced. "I'm not an artist, Emma."

"No," Emma agreed. "But you are perfectly capable of covering some plywood in a base colour and shifting some stuff around. After all, Hannah did want you for your muscles if you remember."

This last remark was delivered in a sarcastic tone of voice and Charles' expression matched the comment.

"Well, what she wants and what she gets may be two different things."

Molly wasn't sure if she imagined it but Charles' eyes seemed to be cast in her direction as he spoke.

"Well I won't keep you," he said with a nod. "Goodnight."

He turned away and headed towards the lounge and Molly moved in the opposite direction thinking how distant he had seemed and worrying that she was the cause.

Now having woken so early she wondered what today would bring and if she dared to mention Izzy's request. She quickly made up her mind not to say anything to Charles. Izzy hadn't shown herself in a particularly good light at the party and she didn't want to match it by making futile requests on her behalf. Emma, however, might be more amenable at least to an enquiry. She might even go so far as to text her older brother but she doubted it would do any good. Izzy had made her bed and it looked as if she was just going to have to lie in it even if it was now empty.

Molly got up and pulled back the curtains. It was another fine day and she fancied it was going to be hotter than yesterday. At least she knew that Charles would be around today and they were all going to be engaged in the float preparations. She had no idea what this would entail but was happy to help Emma and if it meant being close to Charles and having a chance to get things on the right footing then she was glad.

X-X-X-X

Charles leaned against the doorframe of the shed and watched Molly in the distance cutting out shapes that Emma had drawn on giant sized pieces of white card. She was kneeling on the floor in the yard, busy at work, hair tucked behind her ears, concentrating hard on cutting accurately and biting her lip in anticipation of making a mistake. She looked happy and she'd smiled at him once or twice and made a cheeky remark about not standing around watching and putting some bloody effort in. He'd laughed to himself about that one. Just how many times had he said something similar to new recruits over the past few years to encourage them to push themselves however tough they were finding the exercise. It usually produced the desired results. He was glad she was being cheeky; he liked it. It was a start but he wondered just what it would take to turn things around after the strange conclusion to Sunday night.

He'd drunk a bit too much of the single malt his father had offered him that night and had an uncharacteristically sore head the following morning. He hadn't really felt up to conversation at breakfast and had been glad to leave and get some fresh air. In his experience a good walk had always been the best way of clearing his head. When that hadn't worked on this occasion he'd been forced to go and lie down for another hour or two which was strongly against his principles but it had finally shifted the pain behind his eyes. However, when he had made his way back downstairs he'd found that Emma and Molly had gone out. At a loose end he was promptly commandeered by his father to accompany him to a meeting with the Northanger Landlord, a formal naval officer who liked to reminisce and was partial to a bottle of rum which the General was keen to provide. Charles hadn't been best pleased knowing that his chief purpose in attending was to drive his father home after a rather boozy lunch, although on this occasion it had extended into the evening. Having partaken the night before and knowing he was to be his father's driver, Charles hadn't touched a drop himself which had made the day seem even longer and more drawn out.

As the lunch had merged into evening, however, he'd had plenty of time to think back on the night before and he'd come to the conclusion that strange as it had seemed at the time he must have mistaken what had happened at the top of the stairs. Perhaps Molly had slipped or wobbled and put her arms around him to steady herself. It had been very dark and they'd only had dim torchlight. Perhaps he'd been the one at fault by reading it the wrong way and moving straight in for a kiss. The fact that she had been a bit defensive and brusque with him later bore out the possibility that he'd misread the situation. What he really wanted now was the chance to build a few bridges.

Up until last night everything had been going well. He'd never planned on getting emotionally involved and it certainly hadn't been instant attraction. He'd liked Molly right from the start at their first meeting at the Assembly Rooms and each time they'd met there had been just a little more about her that seeped into his consciousness and remained there stubbornly reminding him that there was something that made her different to any other woman he had known. Whether it was her smile, the expression in her green eyes when she looked at him, the way she laughed without any restraint at something she found amusing or the fact she didn't mince her words when the occasion required, he didn't know but he knew that all these small things united had made her important to him and he didn't want to do anything else that might spoil their relationship. If he needed to show some restraint then he would and hopefully Molly would recognise this and trust him again.

Emma called from inside the shed, "Charles, I need you to shift some plywood for me. Can you come back in here?"

Molly turned her head and grinned at him. "Stop slacking and do as she says."

He gave her a mock salute and returned the smile and she watched him saunter back inside. She'd been conscious of him watching her but had made an effort to concentrate. He seemed more relaxed today at least when he had the chance to speak to her. Hannah was trying very hard to keep him to herself, constantly asking his opinion, asking him to do things for her or worst of all reminiscing loudly about when they'd been teenagers. If she heard anymore about the late night beach barbecues and some of the antics that had followed she thought she would scream. Molly sensed that Charles wasn't comfortable with the conversation, maybe because he didn't want to talk about it or perhaps because he knew it excluded Molly. To Molly's ears it certainly sounded like someone making very sure that her prior claim to his acquaintance was well known and understood. Molly had no wish to get involved and simply got on diligently with the tasks that Emma had given her trying to shut her ears to Hannah's constant prattle.

When she had finished cutting out all the shapes she took the pile back to Emma who looked them over and then asked Molly if she would mind popping round to the shop to ask Nat if they could borrow some fine brushes. He had said he had a stack of used ones he didn't need to which they were welcome.

"Sure," Molly nodded. It would be relief to get away from the sound of Hannah's voice if only for a few minutes. She wandered out of the yard to the harbour front and went into the shop. Nat was in there serving a customer. Molly waited politely for him to finish before asking if she could have the brushes. Nat wandered over to the workshop area and started searching through his stocks to find those he no longer needed. As he looked he called, "How are you finding Northanger?"

"Alright," Molly replied. "Although, it's a bit strange getting cut off by the tide every few hours but it's ok."

"Yes, Abbey House is an unusual place," Nat agreed, "but the family seem to like it."

"Emma said her parents bought it just after they were married."

Nat walked towards her with a handful of brushes. "I understand that was the case but I didn't move here until some years after that. Harry and Charles were still young at the time and Emma wasn't even born."

"How did you come to know Mrs James?" For some reason Molly's curiosity about Emma and Charles' mother kept resurfacing.

Nat paused to think. "She took an interest in my work right from the start and I admired her talent. I suppose we were just kindred spirits in a way. It was her idea to share the premises and help each other out, a kind of Woodston Arts Centre if you like, although the General wasn't keen."

"Really?" Molly wasn't surprised. It was obvious he didn't like Nat but she didn't want to make it apparent that she knew this.

"I think the General thought she was too talented to be 'hawking' her paintings as he once put it, in a tuppeny-halfpenny place like this. I know she'd exhibited in London years before but Sylvie liked it here and she enjoyed meeting people and talking about her work to them. I don't think it was about the money as far as she was concerned whereas I," he swept his hands around to take in the workshop and shop, "at least in the General's opinion have a rather a more commercial interest in my work. I don't think he's ever liked me much. I think in his eyes I was hanging on to Sylvie's coat tails."

"But your stuff is lovely. You've got lots of talent."

Nat smiled. "You're very kind but I think he's always seen it rather differently." He handed over the brushes to Molly and changing the subject said, "Well the weather's set fair for the rest of the week. You should have a good day on Saturday. "

"Yeah, thank God. It blew up rough, the other night." Molly said. "To be honest, it was a bit creepy over there. Emma said they've been cut off before because of bad weather. Glad that didn't happen."

Nat nodded. "Yes it's happened once or twice but not for several years now. There was a bad storm about three years ago and they couldn't get over for a day or two but the last one before that must have been when….well, I suppose it was when Sylvie died."

He turned away and started tidying up some of the tools on a bench. Molly couldn't tell if he thought he had said too much or if he seemed affected by the memories. However, his words had caught her attention.

"What happened?"

Nat turned around his eyebrows raised in evident surprise. "Has no one ever spoken about Sylvie's death?"

Molly shook her head. "They don't talk about her very much at all. I think it's for Emma's sake because it upset her so much."

He nodded in agreement. "Of course. I know it came as a great shock to her, particularly as she was away at the time."

"I didn't know that. Was Mrs James killed in an accident or something?"

Nat shook his head. "It wasn't an accident."

Molly stared at him. The tone of his voice struck her as odd. He seemed far away almost as if he hadn't been speaking to her at all and she was burning to hear what followed.

The tinkle of the bell on the door startled her and she turned to see Charles entering the shop. He greeted Nat politely and Nat nodded and enquired after his health. They exchanged a few pleasantries and then Nat excused himself and turned back to the kiln at the far end of the workshop. Molly stared after him. Surely, he wasn't going to leave it there?

"I've been asked to send you round to see Pauline for a fitting."

Molly almost didn't hear him. She was so preoccupied by Nat's words and their inference that she barely acknowledged Charles.

"Molly?"

She forced her attention back to him. There was a look of consternation on his face.

"Sorry, I didn't quite hear you."

"Evidently." He paused until she was fully focused. "Pauline needs you to go for a fitting. Apparently she's going out in half an hour so you need to make it snappy."

"Oh, ok," Molly replied, fighting the urge to come straight out with the question she desperately wanted to ask him but knew that she shouldn't.

"Are you alright?" Charles asked at last.

"Yeah, 'course," Molly said a tad too brightly and throwing a rather artificial smile at him.

He wasn't fooled. Molly was distracted and acting oddly, again. She seemed to be getting on quite well with Nat Mortimer from what he had heard. Emma had mentioned that they'd spent some time talking a few days ago and he appeared to have interrupted another chat when he'd entered the shop. He'd always liked the man well enough and his mother had certainly been good friends with him and a business partner to boot. He was well aware however, that his father didn't like Nat and never had. He didn't know why but he'd certainly made plenty of disparaging remarks about him both before and after his mother's death. He'd always supposed it was because he was envious in some way of the shared artistic bond between Nat and his mother. In so many ways his mother and father had inhabited different worlds and yet he remembered seeing them happy together and supposed it was a case of opposites attracting. That thought brought him straight back to Molly, standing before him looking flustered and out of sorts but he was still irresistibly drawn to her.

"Run along Dawsey," he nodded his head towards the door.

She stared at him in surprise. He had shaken her from her thoughts. "Dawsey? Do you think I'm one of your squaddies?"

"No, definitely not but I thought it might have the same effect."

"Which is?"

"That you jump to it without hesitation and follow my instructions."

He was joking, she could tell. She laughed. "Instructions? Is that what they call it in the army these days?"

He rolled his eyes and pulled a face as if conceding her point. "OK, orders if you prefer."

She shook her head. "Not sure I like the sound of 'orders'. You've probably noticed I can't keep my mouth shut and I guess that wouldn't go down too well in the army."

The warmth of her argument and the playing with words encouraged Charles. He took a step nearer and smiled at her. "I suppose I'd have to threaten to put you on a charge in that case."

"That's what the army calls persuasion, is it?"

He nodded and smirked. "Yeah, pretty much."

"So what charge would you threaten me with to make me follow your 'instructions'?"

He gazed down at her and wondered how much more flirtatious a remark he could risk. He bit his lip in anticipation of her response. "Confined to barracks."

She pulled a face. "That don't sound like much of a threat."

"Depends on who you're with." He delivered the remark in the flat tone of voice he had intended. She could read it any way she wanted. They stared at each other. Molly's thoughts turned to the moment on the back stairs again and she felt her heart beating quickly. She had no doubt that they'd both be in danger if they were confined to barracks together but she wasn't quite sure how to respond or what he wanted her to say. She smiled a little and moved towards the door.

"Did it work, then?" He sounded surprised, confused, even a little disappointed that she was going.

She turned her head to grin at him. "This time. But I might not listen next time so you might gonna have to put me on that charge."

"Might gonna?" he said with a laugh.

She nodded, "Yeah. Don't you speak proper English round here?"

She opened the door and headed out with a giggle. His heart was warmed by the sound but more by the realisation that they were moving back on track. Whatever had caused the uncertainty seemed to have passed and he headed back to the shed with a lighter spring in his step.

X-X-X-X

The planned costume for Morgan Le Fay was very much better than Molly had anticipated. Pauline Spargo smiled broadly at Molly and after sizing her up by sight and carrying out a few confirmatory measurements declared, "We'll have to give you something eye catching and suitably attractive."

"Thank God." Molly sighed. "When Emma said she was a witch I thought I'd have to carry a broomstick."

Pauline laughed. "She was more of a sorceress, really and very powerful. I think you'll need something striking to match."

"A sorceress?" Molly said, "That sounds a lot better than a witch."

"Well, she would have had all manner of spells, potions and charms at her disposal. Plenty of stuff to enchant whoever or whatever she liked."

"That definitely makes her sound a lot better. I could do with a bit of that myself."

"Couldn't we all dear."

They both laughed.

Pauline reached for some rolls of fabric and held one or two up against Molly. As she did so a thought occurred to Molly.

"I suppose you've known the James family a long time."

Pauline nodded. "Best part of twenty-five years."

Molly took a deep breath. "It must have been a shock when Mrs James died."

"Oh, it was, you're right there. Terribly sad for them all. She was a nice lady but it was the boys and poor little Emma I felt sorry for most of all. It's not easy to grow up without a mother. She's found it difficult, you know."

"Yes," Molly agreed wondering how she could steer the conversation in the direction she wanted it to go. "I suppose it was the suddenness of it all."

Pauline stopped what she was doing. "It was sudden, you're right, and that's hard to come to terms with but I always look at it this way. It's best to remember the good times and not dwell on the loss. Everyone mourns at the start but in the end you have to be thankful for what you've had and not continue to mourn for what you might never have had."

She turned back to the fabric, bent over and pulled out a long roll of deep purple satin like material.

"This would be good, don't you think?" She was smiling broadly and Molly felt that she couldn't press any further on the issue of Mrs James' death. It was obvious that Pauline had moved on.

Twenty minutes later with the measurements finished, ideas discussed and some fabrics chosen, Pauline started packing up ready to leave for her doctor's appointment in Penzance and Molly made her way out of the little Fisherman's cottage that had been home to Pauline, Joe and Hannah for almost thirty years. Pauline had joked they were practically part of the harbour walls and turning to look at the house with the sunshine reflected on its whitewashed walls it was certainly hard to imagine it could look any other way.

Molly strolled back towards the pottery. There were still questions in her mind but she reasoned that with care and consideration she might be able to tease out the answers in due course. She turned through the gates toward the yard at the rear of the harbour buildings where Nat's shed was located and glancing down noticed the lace of her right trainer had come undone. She stopped, bent down and started to tie it up and as she did so she heard the sound of voices just around the corner; it was Charles and Hannah. She stood up and was about to join them but something about the conversation held her back.

"What's up, Charles? You seem a bit cross about something?" It was Hannah and she sounded perplexed.

"Do I?" The response was short and clipped. He sounded annoyed.

"You know you are," came back the accusation. "As soon as I asked you to come out to Hillside Farm with me to collect the wood we've been offered, you got huffy. Is it something I said?"

Molly heard Charles exhale and could imagine him standing there hands on hips staring into the distance the way she had seen him do so before whilst weighing up a response.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" It was not difficult to hear the sarcasm in his voice.

"You've been short with me all afternoon for some reason. I thought I must have upset you."

"Let's take a guess on that. Could that have been today or at some point in the past?"

"You shouldn't dwell on the past, Charles," Hannah said softly chiding him in a way that sounded as if it was intended to be flirtatious.

The reply was instant. "Well maybe it's not as easy as I thought it would be to just let go of everything and put it behind me."

There was silence then Molly heard Hannah say, "Is there something you want to say to me because…" a long pause, "I've been wanting to say something to you since Saturday but I didn't know how to find the words."

Molly's heart was beating so loudly it reverberated in her head. She could see Hannah in her mind's eye standing there, head on one side throwing him those flirtatious looks and appealing to his good nature.

"Please, Hannah. Don't do that."

Molly was in dread of what was happening. She could imagine Hannah sidling up to Charles, stroking his face the way she had in the car park last week, even kissing him while he stood there trying to distance himself. Or maybe it was the distancing he was finding difficult. Perhaps he was just fighting the urge to respond. He was talking about the past and he sounded troubled. Molly was well aware from everyone else that they had once been very close.

"Don't pretend that we can just carry on as if nothing ever happened." The tone of accusation was now in Charles' voice.

"What do you mean?"

"Do I really have to remind you?" Charles was incredulous. "Has it completely slipped your memory that you swept out of here five years ago without a word to anyone, just two days before my deployment to Afghanistan and after informing me you were pregnant?"


	13. Chapter 13

**_Thank you for all the reviews and comments on Chapter Twelve I really appreciate them._**

 **Chapter Thirteen**

Molly stared across the water to Northanger concentrating on the outline of Abbey House, noticing just how marked the subsidence of the Abbot's tower was from this distance. The tower leaned away from the building almost as if it was trying to sidle away. Just like her.

She was sitting on the same bench in the harbour that she and Emma had used when eating their ice creams a few days ago. She knew that Emma would be expecting her back but she was trying to get her thoughts in order after overhearing the exchange between Charles and Hannah. The silence that had followed Charles' remark about Hannah being pregnant had told a story in itself. Molly had frozen to the spot waiting for Hannah to say something but she hadn't. Molly supposed that they were both wondering what to say or do next and at that moment afraid of what the silence meant Molly felt she simply had to get away. She hadn't wanted to overhear the conversation. She hadn't wanted to know any of it.

She had tiptoed back out of the yard and headed in the direction of a boat shed fifty yards away and tucked herself behind it out of sight. A few minutes later she noticed Charles striding along the harbour wall in the direction of the car park. He was moving quickly in a determined manner and Molly thought he looked angry. About ten seconds later Hannah followed him. She looked less certain of herself but she followed him to the car park. He waited for her to get into the car, hands gripping the wheel, staring ahead of him and Hannah appeared to say nothing either as she got in. The car pulled away and turned right onto the main road. Molly supposed they were going to Hillside Farm, as Hannah had previously mentioned, to collect the wood and she stepped out of the shadows. She wandered along the harbour and sat down heavily on the bench.

She really didn't know what to think or what she felt about what she had heard. There was nothing but a sense of emptiness. She wasn't naïve. Charles was a mature man, he'd known Hannah a long time and it wasn't surprising that they'd had a relationship but the idea that there were unresolved issues and that Charles was still angry with Hannah suggested he'd been hurt. Charles' previous comments about Hannah came to mind. He hadn't been comfortable around her and now it was obvious there was history; complicated history. The news of the pregnancy had shaken her but it had been five years ago. What had happened? From what Molly had previously been told and just overheard Hannah had cleared out of Woodston without a word to anyone and Charles had been deployed overseas within days and it seemed hadn't seen her again until a few days ago. The reason why she had gone now seemed obvious but Molly could only assume that Hannah must have ended the pregnancy. No one at any time had mentioned a child. Was that why Charles was angry? She couldn't be sure about anything other Charles was clearly struggling with his feelings.

Before they'd left Bath it was obvious to Molly that there had been a growing attraction between her and Charles but nothing had been straightforward since Charles had arrived here on Saturday. The unexpected presence of Hannah seemed to have shaken things up. She thought fleetingly of the flirtatious conversation with Charles earlier in the pottery and tried to tell herself that what she knew now didn't change anything. Whatever Charles felt for Molly surely wasn't going to be altered by something that happened a long time ago unless, and she took a deep breath as she considered this, he had loved Hannah and considered her unfinished business. What had he said just now? _Maybe it's not as easy as I thought it would be to just let go of everything._ A stab of pain ran through Molly as she considered that perhaps he'd been trying to move on but he just couldn't do it now that Hannah was here.

Molly sighed and shook her head feeling utterly helpless. There was little she could do. She was here for the summer at the invitation of the James family. Charles was only here for another week or so and she wasn't going to employ the sort of tactics Hannah appeared to be using. There was no way she was getting into an undignified fight over him. She just had to carry on as if she'd never heard the conversation and hope that everything would resolve itself the right way. It wouldn't be easy but she could see no other choice and her heart was heavy at the thought that the little flame of attraction between them might just have been snuffed out.

She rose and walked slowly back to the shed in the yard. Emma was there alone, painting props. She looked up as Molly walked in.

"I wondered where you'd got to. How was the fitting?

Molly had almost forgotten about the Morgan Le Fay costume and she had to force a smile. "Great. I think it'll be good."

"Charles and Hannah have gone to get the wood from Hillside Farm. Did you see them?"

Molly lied and shook her head.

Emma stood up and surveyed her work, paintbrush in hand. "I thought when they got back we could get some dinner at The Ship. I'd say we're just about finished for today. I don't know about you but I'm starving."

Molly hadn't thought about food at all but the time was getting on and she was actually hungry in spite of everything. She wondered if there was any mileage in talking to Emma about Charles and Hannah but how could she ask her? Emma had never indicated that she suspected Charles and Molly of having any feelings for each other so an outright question would seem very odd and it was not beyond the bounds of possibility that Emma knew nothing about any of this. She cleared her throat.

"It's quiet without Hannah here."

"Yes, " Emma agreed. "She does go on a bit sometimes."

"'Specially all that stuff about when she and Charles were teenagers. It sounds like they got up to all sorts," Molly pressed.

"I don't know about that," Emma said with a shrug of her shoulders. "Charles is eight years older than me and Hannah's five years older. I was too young to be going to late night barbecues on the beach. That was all Charles and Harry really. I didn't get to do things like that."

"That's a shame," Molly said vaguely.

"Well, by the time I was old enough to do things like that, Mum had died and they'd all moved away plus I wasn't really in the mood for that kind of stuff."

Molly almost kicked herself for forgetting that Emma's teenage years had been blighted by her illness.

"Sorry, I only meant it's a pity you weren't old enough to join in with them at the time. I suppose they were all quite close."

Emma pulled a face, "From what I can remember they were falling out as much as they were friends, although Charles and Hannah were always closest." She smiled, "I remember that mum used to call them all The Three Musketeers."

Molly forced herself to smile as well although she had heard nothing to lift her spirits. She gritted her teeth as she continued, "It's strange about Hannah going off like that a few years ago without any word."

"I suppose it's her business, really. She was about nineteen at the time. I think she'd just done her first year at Uni and Charles was about to go overseas. Harry thought they'd had a row." Emma turned away to tidy up the paint pots and brushes.

"Harry?"

Emma turned around to face Molly. "Yes, he used to come down here in the summer even after he'd moved up to London. He doesn't really have time now. We only see him on special occasions like the party."

Molly suddenly realised this was the time, if ever there was one, to mention Izzy's request from this morning even though it was hardly at the forefront of her concerns and she had no real wish to get involved.

"Do you ever speak to or text Harry?"

"Now and then," Emma said slowly. "But why do you ask?"

Molly felt embarrassed just as she knew she would be but there was only one way to deal with this; be straight and honest.

"My friend Izzy seems to have had a 'thing' with Harry after the party and he's not calling or texting her now."

"Oh." The expression on Emma's face was a mixture of pity and embarrassment. Molly explained Izzy's request and Emma said she'd mention it but Molly could tell she held out little hope of it producing a result.

"Sorry," Emma said, "but Harry's just not the settling down type. I hope your friend's not too upset but she'd be better off forgetting it."

"It's not always that easy, though, is it?" Molly said vaguely wondering what she could say to put Izzy off for good and thinking of how she would feel if everything with Charles turned into nothing.

"No," Emma agreed, "It's not easy to forget about someone you care for." She sounded sad and Molly realised she was thinking about herself.

"Francois?"

Emma nodded. "We didn't see each other all that often in Bath but at least he was nearby. Now he's gone back to France it's just texts and phone calls when I know Dad's not around to eavesdrop."

For a brief moment Molly forgot her own troubles and seeing how forlorn Emma looked asked tentatively, "What is it about him that your father doesn't like?"

"It's complicated, " Emma said. "Dad doesn't trust him."

"Trust him? What? With you?"

Emma laughed a little, "I don't think he's afraid for my honour particularly, if that's what you're thinking. He just doesn't like the situation." She turned away from Molly and it was obvious she didn't want to elaborate and Molly knew that she couldn't press the point.

Ten minutes later Charles and Hannah returned. Hannah was as bright and breezy as ever and keen to show them the stack of wood she had been given which would help with the scene building. Molly noticed that Charles kept himself busy unloading the car and bringing the donated items round to the yard and said very little. Hannah was saying enough for both of them and Molly wondered if the nonstop chatter was overcompensation for the fact that things weren't very cordial between them. Once the wood was stashed away Emma repeated the proposal for dinner at The Ship. Hannah wasn't working that night and seemed keen whilst Charles sad nothing directly in favour but seemed to silently acquiesce, perhaps because he realised Emma was keen.

Molly watched his face but couldn't read his emotions. He'd looked at her once or twice after he returned but only given her a faint smile. She supposed he had things on his mind after the conversation with Hannah but it irked her that Hannah continued to behave in exactly the same manner as before. Molly remembered Emma's words and wondered if this was this just another situation that Hannah was going to charm her way out of and whether Charles end up forgiving and forgetting or worse still going back to her. She tried to force the thought from her mind but Charles was being distant and reserved again. His silence and her knowledge of the situation put a dampener on her spirits and trailing in everyone else's wake as they headed to The Ship for some dinner she realised it was the last place she wanted to be.

It was still early and the bar was quiet. Hannah was greeted by the barman Ben, revelling in the fact that he was soon to be King Arthur, and there followed some good natured banter between the pair about the carnival with Hannah telling him he ought to help out and Ben maintaining he had servants to do that for him.

"Guinevere certainly has," Charles remarked under his breath. Only Molly seemed to hear him and glancing up she caught his eye but he didn't smile at her. At length Hannah and Ben stopped sparring and Ben asked for their orders.

Charles looked at Molly.

"What'll you have?"

Molly glanced along the bar and caught sight of some local draught cider.

"A cider please."

"It's very strong," Hannah interjected. "It's not like the stuff you get in supermarkets, Molly." Her patronising tone of voice annoyed Molly.

"A half then?" Charles raised his eyebrows in a query.

"A pint, thanks." Molly replied without looking at Hannah.

Charles inclined his head towards Ben, "A pint then."

The cider when it arrived was, as stated, very strong. Molly didn't really like the taste of it much but once she had managed half the glass it didn't seem so bad and it did at least start to take the sting out of Hannah's continued presence and irritating conversation, at least to Molly. Hannah continued to talk as if they were a group of old friends catching up and in spite of what Molly had overheard in the yard, seemed undeterred by Charles being a little detached and disinclined to talk although he rallied as the evening wore on as if conscious that Molly seemed quiet too and he was drawing attention to himself. Hannah increasingly called upon Emma to bolster the conversation and Emma kept trying to involve Molly as she didn't like to see her friend being excluded by topics which meant nothing to her. Had she been stone cold sober Molly probably would have felt very awkward but the cider seemed to help, particularly as they sat in a foursome having their meal with Charles directly opposite Hannah.

"Do you remember the night that you and Harry took my Dad's boat for a joyride round the bay at midnight?"

"It was stupid," Charles said without a smile.

Hannh giggled, "I don't remember you saying so at the time. You both thought it was pretty hilarious."

"As I recall it was a dare," Charles said, "and we didn't have a sea leg between us at the time. We could have drowned."

Hannah shook her head. "Hardly. In a launch with an outboard motor on a still night?"

"That might be true for a local, perhaps," Charles replied. "But we didn't really know what we were doing."

"You didn't have to go. The dare was for Harry, wasn't it?"

Charles nodded.

"So why did you go as well?"

"Did you think I'd leave him to do that on his own?"

"What a good brother you were, then."

The smile on Hannah's face didn't quite ring true and Molly wondered if she was being sarcastic. Emma changed the subject back to her plans for the carnival float and Charles fell silent but Molly sensed the antagonism between him and Hannah. It ought to make her feel better that Charles seemed to dislike Hannah but somehow it didn't. She couldn't help thinking that Charles was just fighting against something. She'd once heard some stuck up person on television talking about the intensity of love and hate and trying to make out they were very closely related. The idea that Charles might be using his anger to hide his true feelings towards Hannah occurred to her and it saddened her even more particularly as he wasn't showing any inclination towards her instead.

The waitress came to take their plates and asked if they wanted more drinks. Molly asked for another pint of cider. The first had dulled the edges of her mind and as much as she didn't like Hannah she found she was grating on her less than before and she found she was worrying less about Charles and what he thought too. The second pint seemed to slip down very easily and by the time they had moved to the bar she had drunk a third and was a fair way through a fourth although she was beginning to feel as if she wouldn't be able to finish it. They were sitting at a quiet table and Emma was saying something about needing to go home because it was getting late but Molly wasn't really concentrating and certainly hadn't noticed the time. She glanced in the direction of the window and realised it was dark outside. Suddenly they were all standing up around her and Hannah had walked away. Molly remained where she was and then realised Charles and Emma were waiting for her. She stood up in a hurry and wobbled taking a step to her right Charles put out a hand and grasped her arm to steady her.

"Careful."

Molly glanced down at his hand resting on her arm and said the first thing that came into her head, "You've got lovely fingers, you know."

Charles gave her a long look before saying quietly and with a small degree of bemusement, "Thank you."

Molly caught Emma looking at her brother and saw her frowning at him and wondered briefly if she had just said something stupid. Hannah returned. "My Dad will ferry you over," she pointed across the bar and although everything seemed a bit blurry Molly could just make out Joe Spargo, rising from his seat in the far corner and making his way towards them as Hannah headed towards the door.

"Goodnight Hannah," Emma called out. Hannah raised a hand but Molly noticed that Charles didn't say anything. Instead he linked his arm through Molly's and said, "Time to go home, Molly. You'd better walk with me."

Outside the air was fresh. The heat of the day had dissipated and there was a change in the air. The difference in temperature was marked and Molly shivered. She glanced at the sky. Stars seemed to be floating around rather like jellyfish or was it just the bobbing of the boat as they crossed the short stretch to Northanger that was distorting her view? She could hear a man talking in the darkness but it wasn't Charles and then she remembered that Joe was ferrying the boat. She heard Charles reply but couldn't quite make out where he was, possibly behind her somewhere. It was all very odd. Then the boat seemed to bump gently against something solid and Molly sensed movement as someone climbed out. With a start she realised they must be back at Northanger and she started to move, slow lumbering awkward movements until she felt herself bodily lifted up and out of the boat and placed on the jetty. She stood there uneasily and recognised Emma standing alongside her. Emma placed her arm through hers and they started to walk together along the jetty but Molly felt uncoordinated and suddenly afraid that she would misjudge where her feet were and fall into the water. Emma was trying to keep her straight and upright but was struggling as she was only of a slight build.

"Let me." It was Charles' voice and suddenly she felt a strong arm around her waist grip her tightly and walk her in a more determined manner from the jetty to the beach. The sand was a pain to walk across as their footing slipped back a fraction with every step but when they cleared it she felt the incline of the steep track to Abbey House and realised they were heading up the hill. Even under her own steam she was usually puffing a bit by the time she reached the house but in such a tired and uncoordinated state she was struggling to make headway and although Charles was using his strength to pull her upwards it was proving hard going.

"Nearly there," a voice far away that sounded like Charles and then a moment or two later they seemed to be on level ground again. Molly vaguely recognised the outline of the front door and as they were about to step inside they heard the General call out to them. Molly heard Charles say something like, "Better not let Dad see her like this. Why don't you go and distract him and I'll take her upstairs."

"Shall I make some coffee afterwards?" It was Emma this time.

"Hate coffee," Molly said with a giggle, for some reason remembering the coffee she had drunk when she had met Charles in the coffee shop in Bath.

"Don't bother, Em," Charles replied, "I don't think she'll drink it. Just go and talk to Dad for a bit and keep him out the way. I'll get her upstairs."

Emma went into the house and Molly heard her calling out to the General something about Charles and Molly looking at the stars. She glanced up into the sky and noticed once again that they were spinning around in small circles.

"Shit, look at that, shooting stars," Molly pointed into the sky. Charles, however, didn't appear to be able to see the same thing as her.

"I don't think so, Molly."

"Are you sure?" She sounded ridiculously indignant even to her own ears.

"I'm very sure," he replied. He grasped her more tightly around the waist, "Come on, let's get you up to bed."

The moment they entered the house the brightness of the lights in the hall seemed to dazzle Molly and send her head spinning.

"I feel a bit dizzy," she said faintly, surprised as her legs started to wobble.

They were only half way to the stairs but Charles could tell she wouldn't make it any further. He bent, scooped her up and lifted her in his arms. She lay there motionless, eyes shut. He was surprised that she had drunk so much. He couldn't imagine why when she'd been warned the cider was strong. Perhaps she had underestimated the effect or it had been delayed until the fresh air hit her. He remembered a night in the junior officers' mess when he had first been commissioned which had ended rather like that. The first three or four drinks had had no effect. Later he had felt as if he'd hit a brick wall much to the amusement of his brother officers.

He carried her upstairs and into her bedroom. He placed her gently on the bed brushing a strand of hair from her face. She opened her eyes at his touch, surprised by her surroundings and reaching up caught his hand in hers. She stroked it and studied it, tracing the lines on the back of his hand with her thumb. He leaned across and kissed her gently on the forehead and paused for a moment, hovering over her. Her eyes looked sad and he thought fleetingly how easy it would be to lie down next to her, take her in his arms and simply kiss away the sadness but he couldn't take advantage like that. She'd had far too much to drink. Even if she had been sober she might not have wanted him there. Reluctantly he stood up.

"Are you alright?"

She half closed her eyes and whispered, "Depends what you mean?"

"Will you _be_ alright?" he clarified softly.

She shook her head and said something that sounded like, "Don't know. Not up to me."

He couldn't leave her like this. Anything could happen and he'd never forgive himself. He crossed the room to the wardrobe and took out a blanket. He spread it over her. Her eyes were shut and her hair fanned out on the pillow behind her like a dark halo. She seemed to be dozing. He turned on a small table lamp and turned off the overhead light. There was a gentle tap at the door and then Emma's voice calling softly, "Goodnight Molly." He wondered whether to go to the door but a second or two later heard her footsteps moving away in the direction of her own room. She would have trusted him to ensure that her friend was alright and she wouldn't want to interfere and risk embarrassing Molly. There was nothing else he could do to help but he'd made up his mind that he wasn't leaving her. He pulled the stool over from the dressing table and settled himself into the armchair next to the bed adjusting the cushions around him to a more comfortable position before putting up his feet and shutting his eyes.

X-X-X-X

Molly stirred and felt a knife like pain behind her eyes as she tried to open them.

"Arghh."

Her throat felt dry and she was parched. She turned her head to her right and was shocked to see Charles asleep in the chair next to the bed. She didn't remember going to bed and patting herself all over with her hands she realised that she was still fully dressed and there was a blanket over her. She felt hot and pushed the cover back. She shut her eyes again and the pain receded a little. Memories of last night returned. They had been on the boat and then struggling up the hill. She remembered Emma mentioning coffee but nothing else.

"Oh fuck," she groaned and attempted to roll onto her side. As she did so a wave of nausea overcame her and afraid she might succumb she hastily lay on her back again and shut her eyes. After a few seconds the nausea subsided and she attempted to open her eyes again. She was suddenly aware of movement and realised she had woken Charles. With an effort she turned her head. He was rubbing his eyes and shaking his head to chase away the sleep. He looked at her blinking slightly in the light.

"Morning. How do you feel?"

She gave a wan smile, "Like a total prannet."

"What's that?" his voice was slightly hoarse from sleep.

"Use your imagination. Whatever you come up with, believe me, it's worse."

The effort of saying that much had made the nausea return and she shut her eyes and took a few deep breaths trying to keep it under control. God, the last thing she wanted was to spew her guts in front of him. She was humiliated enough by having obviously got so drunk that she couldn't get herself to bed without providing an even more humiliating encore.

"Can I get you anything?" he said after a minute or two when she opened her eyes again. He was sitting upright in the chair, alert and had obviously been watching her. She was touched. He had been so kind and was still being kind but right at this minute she knew that the only thing she wanted was to get to the bathroom as fast as she could and on her own.

"I could murder a cup of tea," she said faintly. She didn't want one at all but it was the only way she could think of to get him out of the room. He nodded.

"Ok. It's against my principles but a cup of tea it is."

To Molly's huge relief, he rose and left the bedroom. She waited only for as long as it took to hear his footsteps at the top of the stairs before raising herself and crawling the six feet from her bed to the bathroom making it just in time.

When Charles returned with a cup of tea, some water and some paracetamol ten minutes later, Molly was sitting propped up on the pillows of the bed looking slightly flushed and more alert. He noticed that the room smelled of perfume but made no remark; it was her scent and he liked it.

"A cup of tea, as you requested, madam."

He held it out to her and she took it rather gingerly and pretended to sip it saying it was a bit hot still and she put it on the bedside table. He was still standing next to the bed and appeared undecided about what to do next. There was an awkward silence until Molly said, "Sorry, about putting you to so much trouble, last night."

He smiled at her. "It was no trouble. It was a damn sight easier than hauling a few chaps I know to bed after a mess dinner."

Molly cringed at the thought of being manhandled up the stairs. He must have seen the look on her face as he said gallantly, "You're like a feather compared to them."

Molly vaguely recalled being lifted in his arms and although the thought was preferable to being dragged up, arms and legs thrashing around in an uncontrolled state, she still felt herself starting to blush.

"Sorry about drinking too much. I…" How could she say that she'd only drunk the stupid cider to prove Hannah wrong except she'd done the opposite?

"It's ridiculously strong stuff. I don't know how they get away with it." Charles said with every attempt at seriousness but the corners of his mouth were twitching as he added, "Although serving it to prannets might help."

Although it hurt her head to keep her eyes open and her stomach was still doing the odd uncomfortable flip, she couldn't help smiling at this remark.

"Well, it won't happen again."

"Drinking too much cider or being a prannet?" He held her gaze.

"The cider of course," Molly whispered. "I've always been a prannet. Ask my Nan."

"I'd love to."

She couldn't tell if he was joking but briefly she hoped he was being serious until the mental image of her Nan being hugely impressed, nudging her with her elbow and telling her in a loud whisper that everyone could hear that he was 'a bit of alright,' drifted through her mind and almost made her blush again. She tried to banish the thought as quickly as it had arrived. He looked as if he was about to sit down again and Molly was in two minds about whether she wanted his company or to be alone when there was a knock at the door and Emma called, "Can I come in?"

Molly glanced at Charles for a second and thought he looked slightly disappointed at the interruption but she had no choice but to answer. "Yes, Emma."

Emma visibly started at the sight of her brother standing in the room but before she could say anything Charles headed off any enquiries with, "I was just passing and thought I'd check on Molly."

Emma looked him up and down taking in the fact he was still wearing last night's clothes and clearly hadn't washed or shaved. She didn't believe him but she said nothing. Her own life was complicated enough without making an intrigue of anyone else's. She knew Molly liked Charles and he undoubtedly liked her but exactly how much was harder to read given that his inherent good manners were both a curse and a blessing on some occasions. He was very good and smoothing things over with people he didn't like but equally good at masking his true feelings with those he did.

"Hannah's expecting us at ten," Emma said, "and your muscles are required, Charles."

Charles pulled a face, the information was clearly unwelcome but he said nothing.

"What about you, Molly?"

Molly had to stop herself giving the two word reply that automatically sprung to her lips and reminded herself that this was Emma standing in front of her not one of her old friends from East Ham making a ridiculous suggestion.

"I don't think I feel like it, sorry Emma."

Emma nodded and seemed to have expected the answer. "Well, if you feel better later then low tide is about two o'clock so come over and join us. Dad went out early this morning and said he'd be gone all day. You don't mind being here on your own do you, Molly?"

Molly shook her head and regretted it at once as pain began to throb at the back of her head.

"Perhaps I should stay?" Charles suggested seeing the look on Molly's face.

"Sorry, " Emma said with a smirk which Molly noticed, "you can't get out of it that way. I need you to launch the boat because the tide is in and we need your help with some manhandling."

There was nothing more Charles could say in the face of Emma needing his help and he left forgetting that he had claimed to be passing by and saying he needed to get washed and changed.

Emma turned to look at Molly after he shut the door behind him, "I'm saying nothing; apart from I hope he's behaved like a gentleman."

Molly's mouth dropped open in surprise at this statement from Emma and then her friend laughed, "You should see yourself. For goodness sake, I'm joking."

Molly tried to laugh too but she wasn't sure what there was to laugh about. Either Emma thought the idea of Charles being ungentlemanly was ridiculous or that there would never have been any occasion to suspect he had a reason to behave otherwise.

Emma left her a minute later after kindly asking if there was anything else she could do for her and being assured that Molly just wanted to sleep and by the time Emma and Charles departed in the launch for Woodston, Molly was dead to the world.

X-X-X-X

When Molly awoke hours later her first and overriding sensation was relief that her head no longer ached and the nausea had disappeared. She sat up in bed and glanced at the clock on the table standing next to a cold cup of tea. It was almost two. She must have been asleep for four or five hours but she felt remarkably better. Unfortunately, the greater clarity of her mind also opened it to the idea that she'd made a fool of herself last night and however gracious and kind her friends were being about her behaviour she wasn't very proud of herself. Charles had been nice and the thought of his attentiveness to her warmed her heart and began to chase away some of the doubts that had plagued her yesterday but she wished she hadn't put herself in that position. As much as she wanted to believe he had been kind because of his affection for her he might just have pitied her and felt he should look after her because she was a guest in their house.

She rose, showered and dressed and feeling suddenly very tired and thirsty, having drunk nothing except the glass of water Charles had left she headed downstairs to the kitchen carrying the cup that Charles had brought her this morning. She entered the kitchen and reached out for the kettle to fill it with fresh water and make tea. As she did so, she was suddenly aware of a banging sound upstairs and then a strong draught of cool air wafted through the kitchen. She turned and noticed that the door to the back stairs was ajar. She put down the kettle and crossed the kitchen to the door. As she opened it the source of the draught was revealed and she heard the sound of what she took to be a window banging in the breeze. Someone must have left a window open that had come loose from the catch.

Without any hesitation she climbed the stairs and when she reached the landing she saw to her astonishment that the door at the end of the corridor leading into the Abbot's Tower and Sylvie James studio was open. There was only person with a key and only one person who could have opened the door. For a moment Molly thought of heading back down again but her curiosity got the better of her. She stood still and listened but apart from the window banging there were no other sounds or signs of movement. Why shouldn't she go in and look if the door was open and no one else was around? She walked slowly towards the open door remembering her last attempt to snoop. It was the middle of the day there was no danger of being suddenly pitched into darkness this time.

She reached the door and taking a deep breath tentatively peered around the edge. The room was large and square, with a high vaulted ceiling and with large arched windows on three sides. It was flooded with sunlight and Molly could see why Sylvie James had used it as an artist's studio. It was sparsely furnished with just a stool, painting easel, a table in one corner and the usual variety of paints and brushes but it was missing something that she had expected to see; there were no paintings. The room was empty. She was surprised. She stepped into the room and walked around turning and looking about her but she had been right the first time; there was no sign of Sylvie James' work anywhere. She paused by the window looking out across to Woodston and gazed across the water. When, in a reckless moment a few days ago, she had taken the key, she had thought she would find the paintings that Emma had talked about so much, not this empty room.

"Were you looking for something?"

She was startled and spun around to find herself addressed by the General standing in the open doorway and judging by the thunderous expression on his face he was anything but pleased.


	14. Chapter 14

**_Thank you so much for all your lovely reviews for chapter thirteen. The more you stare at the words the more uncertain you become about what you've written, so thank you so much for your comments. I really appreciate them. Well, as we left the story Molly had been caught red-handed hadn't she…oh dear!_**

 **Chapter Fourteen**

Molly's heart was thumping in her chest. The General hadn't moved from the doorway of the studio and continued to regard her with undisguised suspicion and displeasure.

"I was in the kitchen and I heard a noise upstairs. I just… came up to see what it was. I…didn't know you were here." Molly stammered as she sought to give her explanation for being in the room even though it was true apart from the fact that she had realised that only the General could have opened the door.

"Well, as you can see, there's nothing here to concern you." He stood to one side to clear the doorway indicating she should leave.

"I suggest you go back downstairs." He attempted a smile but Molly could see that there was no warmth in his expression. She had no doubt he was angry that she was in the room but she was sure he would be angrier still if he had any idea that she knew what ought to be there. She crossed the room towards him and made to pass him but he stopped her, placing one hand on her shoulder.

"I do hope you're enjoying your stay here, Molly?" His voice was eerily quiet.

"Of course," she said automatically

"Good," he nodded. "I would hate to think that a guest in this house would find anything unpleasant, just as I would hate the presence of anyone in this house to disturb the comfort of others, if you see what I mean."

Molly wasn't sure what he was getting at but she recognised the threat in his voice and didn't like the sound of it. However, she played innocent.

"Not really,"

The General gave her another false, conciliatory smile and steering her away from the room and allowing the door to close behind them, he guided her along the passageway towards the back stairs with his hand still on her shoulder.

"I mean, it's very important to all of us, but particularly to Emma, to relax and enjoy the peace and tranquillity that Northanger offers away from everyday distractions and worries. If I thought anything might happen or anyone was going to do or say something to disturb that peace, I really would have no choice but to remove the source of the problem. Do you see what I mean?"

Molly knew exactly what he meant. It was a threat to her to keep quiet about the studio. She'd witnessed the scene between Emma and her father a few days ago regarding the paintings that Emma believed were still stored here and she remembered his reaction to Emma's suggestion that she be allowed to view them; flat refusal. The General obviously didn't want Emma to know the truth and Molly's curiosity burned even more brightly. However, she continued to feign innocence, affected a blank expression and said in a way that she hoped would convince him that she had no idea what he was implying, "Yeah, it's such a nice place here. You must all enjoy it so much. I'm glad it's good for Emma."

The General frowned slightly as if perplexed by her response but then seemed to accept the idea that she was obviously clueless and said in a more convivial tone of voice, "I'm sure that Emma really enjoys your company too. It's good for her to focus on the future and not dwell on the past."

They had reached the stairs and he paused as if a thought had occurred to him.

"What made you stay behind, today, Molly? I take it Charles and Emma have gone to Woodston?"

Molly nodded. "Yes, they're working on the float but I didn't feel well this morning."

The General looked concerned. "I'm sorry to hear that but I take it you're feeling better now. Why don't you go and join them. I'm sure fresh air would be beneficial"

The expression on his face and the tone of his voice left her in no doubt that, in spite of his polite words, he was ordering her to leave. Emma had said he would be out for the whole day but he had returned unexpectedly and hadn't thought anyone was at home. He definitely wanted her out of the house and it only increased her suspicion.

"Yes, I think you're right," Molly said with a bright smile. She headed down the stairs without looking back, sure that he was watching her. Reaching the kitchen she realised she would have no choice but to head over to Woodston. She paused only long enough to get herself a drink as she knew she was dehydrated from the effects of last night's cider. Within a minute or two the General also appeared in the kitchen and seemed to be hovering with nothing in particular to do. Molly knew he was going to hang around there until he was sure she was gone. There was nothing else to do but politely take leave of him and head out of the house.

The tide was fully out and Molly walked slowly across the causeway in the sunshine, thinking about what she had seen and pondering its meaning whilst taking care to ensure that she was in full view of the house at all times. She was certain that the General would be watching her progress from one of the windows to make sure she had left. She didn't know what to make of what had happened but she was in no doubt that there would be trouble if she told anyone what she had seen and she believed the General was a man of his word.

By the time she reached the harbour at Woodston, Molly felt weary and washed out and the last thing she wanted to do was face Hannah or breathe in paint fumes. However, the first person she encountered was Nat Mortimer strolling along the harbour wall on his way back to the pottery after lunch at the Beachcomber café.

"Afternoon, Molly." He peered at her more closely. "Are you alright, you look a bit pale if you don't mind me saying?"

Molly nodded. "To be honest, I'm not at my best."

"Fancy a cup of tea?"

It was an offer she couldn't refuse given the way she was feeling. She walked with him back to the Pottery and sat down on one of the stools in the workshop as he wandered off to put the kettle on to boil. She glanced out of the window and to her surprise caught sight of the General's Land Rover setting out from Northanger across the causeway heading towards Woodston. In a minute he had reached the harbour ascended the slipway and driven away in the direction of Penzance. She couldn't help feeling annoyed that he had more or less insisted she leave the house when he was planning to leave shortly after her and she almost failed to hear Nat when he enquired above the sound of the boiling kettle, "How are the carnival preparations going?"

"Good," Molly nodded bringing her attention back to him. "Emma's brilliant."

"She has her mother's talent," Nat observed with a smile. "Sylvie would have been proud of her. She wanted the best for Emma but it seems as if her father doesn't share that view."

Molly felt it best to be diplomatic and say nothing even if couldn't help agreeing with Nat. He busied himself making the tea for them and returned a minute later with a hot steaming mug. Molly sipped it grateful for the drink and having something to do as she didn't know how to follow up his last remark.

Nat saw her awkwardness and said, "Sorry, I can't help but say what I think, even though I shouldn't sometimes."

Molly looked up from her tea. "Why do you think Emma's father doesn't want what's best for her?"

Nat shrugged. "It's only my view but I think he wants his children to be like him. Look at Harry for instance; a businessman, an entrepreneur one of life's success stories or Charles, following in his father's footsteps, keeping up the family tradition. Emma's the opposite of that. She's her mother."

"But Mrs James was successful. You said she was a respected artist. He must have been proud of her achievements."

"I suppose so, in the beginning, at least," Nat said in a voice which suggested he thought otherwise. "But they were from two different worlds. I don't think he always understood her. I know it was difficult at times for her. She liked being on Northanger and once we'd joined forces here she spent a lot of time in Cornwall."

Molly remembered Emma telling her about her mother staying at Abbey House alone and surmised she and the General had spent considerable periods of time apart some of which had been a consequence of the General's career but it sounded very much as if some of it was by choice.

"Must have been a bit lonely," Molly observed.

Nat stared into the distance and smiled.

"She wasn't lonely."

X-X-X-X

"Haven't you left something behind?" The raucous shout from Ben, already installed as King Arthur on his throne at the rear of the 'Legends of Camelot' float before a fabulously painted backdrop of the Round Table, was met by Charles with a shrug.

"What exactly?"

"Your horse!" Ben laughed and Charles cracked a smile

Looking down at him, splendidly attired in his costume, Molly had to agree. He looked every inch Sir Lancelot, a knight of the Round Table. Pauline Spargo had come up trumps and each of the knights was suitably attired in imitation chainmail and tunics and carried realistic looking swords fashioned from foam rubber and cleverly painted by Emma to resemble ancient metal.

During the past three days Nat Mortimer's yard had been a hive of furious activity from early morning until late at night with Emma determined that everything should look it's very best as well as fretting that the weather might not hold until Saturday and all her work would be undone by a downpour of rain. She needn't have worried, however, as the day of the Woodston Carnival had dawned fine and bright.

It had been all hands on deck since the crack of dawn today and everyone had been transporting materials over to the recreation ground car park where all the lorries were parked up ready for transformation. It was only now, at eleven o'clock, that all the participants of the 'Legends of Camelot' float were finally able to get into costume and prepare for the judging. Once the judging had taken place at midday the carnival procession would travel in convoy around all the neighbouring villages before returning to the recreation ground where stalls and a funfair had been erected as well as an entertainment stage featuring local bands and performers and a beer tent. The main street and harbour in Woodston had been decorated with red, white and blue bunting and for the first time since Molly had arrived here she was excited to see the small village packed with visitors milling around the harbour, the beach and the carnival site. It was buzzing with an air of fun and entertainment.

The last few days had been hard work for everyone. Charles had been right in surmising that they would have to do the bulk of the work and it had seemed as if the painting would never end. Pauline had also roped Molly into assisting with the costumes on one afternoon even though Molly had no experience of dressmaking but somehow together they had managed. Hannah however, had only been around intermittently citing her job at The Ship as her reason for being unable to help as much as she would like. Molly wasn't sorry. Without Hannah around everything seemed more relaxed, at least to her, and although there wasn't much time to spend talking to Charles, she often caught him looking at her or smiling in her direction. On Friday however, Hannah had spent the whole day with them having begged time off from the Landlord, reminding him that the carnival floats were collecting money for charity on the route and ought to make an effort. He had grudgingly conceded that they were representing the pub and he didn't want to be embarrassed by a poor showing.

Hannah, whilst deferring to Emma's artistic talents, had a very high opinion of her own management skills and having declared herself the project leader, proceeded to instruct everyone in minute detail on how the float was to be constructed and stage managed with views on where everyone should be positioned for maximum effect. King Arthur was to be seated on a platform overlooking what was effectively the rest of Camelot with Guinevere a little further away standing next to Lancelot. Molly, as Morgan Le Fay, was to be at the other end of the float on her own, out of sight in a separate scene featuring a magical woodland.

It didn't surprise Molly in the least that she was expected to spend a couple of hours side-lined whilst Hannah stood next to Charles probably clinging onto his arm to steady herself. Molly had no doubt anymore that Hannah had designs on Charles and that she had become aware of Charles' interest in Molly even if he didn't make it obvious to the world in general which often included Molly herself. Pushing Molly out of the way wherever possible was all par for the course in Hannah's game plan. Some of the veiled comments and innocent sounding remarks delivered by her in a tone and manner that wouldn't raise the eyebrows of anyone else around, infuriated Molly. Her constant little jokey digs about Molly being a townie, unfamiliar with Cornwall or not knowing very much about Arthurian legend grated on her and she struggled to contain the urge to tell Hannah in no uncertain terms exactly where to get off. At other times, in contrast, she almost wanted to laugh at how desperate Hannah's actions seemed: frequent requests for Charles assistance, asking his opinion on all manner of subjects and making sure her presence was noted by him usually by being fairly loud and difficult to avoid. Quite how Charles viewed this behaviour however, Molly couldn't tell. She sensed that he was trying to distance himself from Hannah and trying to not become engaged in conversation but there was only so much he could ignore without causing real offence or attracting the attention of others and Molly guessed that he was trying to keep the peace for Emma's sake as much as anyone else. In many ways this was Emma's project and he wanted it to be a success for her so he continued with his subtle approach to ignoring Hannah. Unfortunately, it was far too subtle to put her off.

The last thing Molly had expected now that the morning of the carnival had arrived, however, was to find Hannah in an unusually quiet and subdued mood. With everything in full swing and looking so promising Molly had expected her to be in irrepressibly good spirits. However, she had seen her walking towards the float a little while ago, resplendent in the robes of Queen Guinevere, her golden locks flowing beneath her crown and looking every inch a regal beauty but she didn't look happy and the compliments of some of the others on her appearance were acknowledged with only a small smile and nod. Molly had expected her to say something about Morgan Le Fay's costume and had steeled herself to paint on a fixed smile in return but Hannah hadn't even glanced in her direction. She wandered away to speak to Emma who was not joining them on the float and Molly was left with the impression that all was not well.

Charles approached the float shortly afterwards still smiling from Ben's comment and looking up caught his first glimpse of Molly standing in her woodland scene in costume. Pauline had done a good job and Molly was pleased with the result; a full length black satin effect dress with draping sleeves shot with flashes of purple and a low cut neckline that made the most of Molly's attributes. With her dark hair hanging long and loose over her shoulders and the dark eye makeup she looked every inch the kind of witch she had hoped to be.

"You look…enchanting," Charles said with a smile.

Molly bit her lip to suppress a giggle and replied, "Glad my spell worked."

He caught her eye for a moment but seeming conscious of others milling around him said nothing but merely winked at her before moving on to take up his position.

X-X-X-X

By two thirty Molly was beginning to find the five mile an hour procession through dozens of villages around Woodston a little wearing although she couldn't help but respond to the cheers, claps and waves of local residents who had turned out to stand on the roadside and view the floats as they passed. With the 'Woodston Carnival Winner' banner emblazoned across the front of the lorry, the 'Legends of Camelot' float drew even more notice and Hannah, having recovered her spirits after the float was judged winner, had ordered everyone to stay rigidly in position throughout the journey. Molly was therefore resigned to standing alone in her woodland scene alone and unable to see or talk to Charles behind her even when the lorry picked up a little more speed between villages they were constantly warned by Hannah to keep hold of the safety hand holds and stay in position even though it seldom moved at more than walking pace.

Emma had been overjoyed to be presented with the 'Best Design' trophy although Molly had noted that the General, who was standing by her side at the time of the presentation, had not looked impressed by the fact that it was mentioned more than once that the plate had been made and donated by Nat Mortimer of Penrose Pottery. At one point in the proceedings she had seen the men eye each other with a degree of animosity that surprised her. It was obvious they had no time for each other all. When the Chairman of Woodston Carnival Committee had asked everyone to pose for a photograph at the presentation the General had excused himself and retreated into the crowd claiming he was late for an appointment, much to everyone's surprise apart from it seemed Nat Mortimer.

Molly was delighted for Emma. The float had looked spectacular. Her talent, skill and imagination had transformed the materials at her disposal into something worthy of a theatre set and she was rightly receiving praise from the judging panel, organisers and many of the locals who were admiring her work. She was beaming and Molly realised she had never seen her looking so happy and wished for Emma's sake that Francois could have been here to witness and share her success. When Emma came over shortly afterwards with the winner's trophy in her hands Molly hugged her.

"You deserve it, Emma. You've got talent and other people can see that too."

Emma had gazed in the direction of her father standing about fifty yards away deep in conversation with a distinguished looking elderly man in a country tweeds.

"Dad didn't seem too happy."

"I don't think it was anything to do with you," Molly said. "I'm sure he's pleased about it." Although Nat Mortimer's words came to mind and she wondered just what the General did think.

"I just hope he'll realise I'm serious about Art College now and let me go."

Molly wanted to say that the General must be an idiot if he didn't recognise her talent but checked herself. However little the General had endeared himself to Molly over the last few days she still had to respect the fact that he was Emma's father and his words about disturbing the 'peace' of others had remained with her.

By the time the carnival procession finally wound its way back to Woodston, Molly was desperate to go to the toilet, having almost had to cross her legs for the last half hour wondering just how many more places they could visit and as soon as they had parked up she climbed down. Glancing to her right and hoping to see Charles she observed that he was still standing on the float with Ben and two of his mates dressed as Sir Galahad and Sir Percival and they were ribbing him about something. Charles was laughing and then they clapped him on the back and all jumped down from the float before heading off in the direction of the stalls. Molly couldn't wait any longer and hurried away to the far side of the recreation ground to make use of the facilities not stopping to tell anyone where she was going.

There had been an inevitable queue at the row of portable toilets which had delayed her. Feeling more relaxed she wandered her way back through the crowds across the carnival site and finally ran into Emma.

"Have you seen Charles?"

Molly shook her head, "Not since we got back but I had to pay an urgent visit."

"I was going to ask him if he wanted to stay on here. It would be nice, don't you think?" Emma said. "There's a barbecue later and live bands playing. It's been such a nice day. We could make an evening of it too."

It seemed like a good plan to Molly. "OK," she nodded, "but I think I'll have to get changed out of this first. I'll go and get my clothes from the yard and catch up with you afterwards."

"I'll be over at the stage. Come and find me later." Emma smiled and waved before walking away.

Molly headed back through the car park making for Nat Mortimer's yard at the harbour and as she did so she met Ben with Sir Galahad walking in the opposite direction. He had obviously consumed a few cans of beer, one or two of which she suspected had been hidden under his throne during the procession, and was looking much less regal and resplendent than he had a couple of hours ago. He was still wearing his crown although it was sitting at a jaunty angle almost over one eye and the imitation chainmail fashioned from metallic wool had developed a hole in the seat area giving him a battle weary appearance. As he drew level with Molly he paused momentarily to greet her.

"Ah Morgan, how do you fancy waving your wand and conjuring up some transport to get me and Callum into Penzance?"

Molly smiled, "I aint got a wand. I reckon you should speak to Merlin."

Ben pulled a face. "He's too busy with Prudie from the Poldark float to bother. Can't blame him, I suppose." He stepped a little unevenly to one side, confirming her suspicion about the beer and said, "Can't blame Lancelot either. Gotta hand it to him. He's playing it for real back there." He waved his hand in the direction of the carnival floats.

Molly frowned. It sounded like gobbledygook. "What're you talking about?"

Ben leaned towards her, his crown almost touching her forehead allowing the beer fumes to waft in her face. "Well you know the story about Sir Lancelot don't you?"

Molly shook her head.

"I reckon I should be demanding a duel or something." He seemed pleased with this remark and exchanging glances with his companion started laughing.

Molly was still perplexed. "I don't know what you mean."

Ben clearly thought Molly was a simpleton and pulled a pained expression. "Guinevere was unfaithful with Lancelot and he had to scarper from Camelot when King Arthur found out."

Ben and his companion continued on their way and Molly stared after him trying to understand what he meant until she realised that he must be making some jokey reference to Charles and Hannah. Then she realised he had just said Lancelot was 'playing it for real'. Her heart sank. Hannah had been playing up to Charles for the past few days and although he hadn't encouraged her, he hadn't told her directly to piss off either if that was what he really wanted. She frowned. Was it possible that Ben had seen something that made him think that Charles and Hannah were close or more than that?

Molly glanced around her wondering what to do. She could ignore it and walk away but the remark had unnerved her and thrown her into confusion and even though she realised that Ben had been drinking and his opinion couldn't be relied upon she couldn't forget it. She made her decision and started to walk across the car park towards the area where the floats were parked. There were still a few people milling around looking at them and she headed back towards the 'Legends of Camelot'. She walked down one side of the lorry but she saw nothing. It was only when she rounded the end of the lorry that she discovered the reason for Ben's remark.

She froze to the spot. Charles was standing there with his back to her stripped to the waist with Hannah's arms wrapped around him and her face buried in his chest. Charles' hands were on her arms, gently running them up and down in a soothing motion and he was looking down at her with an earnest expression on his face whilst saying something quietly and out of Molly's earshot. He bent his head towards Hannah and kissed the top of her head. Molly desperately wished that she wasn't seeing what was in front of her but they were standing there plain as day. It was only when Charles raised his head and sensed movement that he turned his head and caught sight of Molly. She recognised the expression on his face in an instant; guilt.


	15. Chapter 15

**_I really didn't want to seem cruel, so for everyone who asked for a quick update…here you are!_**

 **Chapter Fifteen**

Charles caught sight of Molly and immediately tried to disengage himself from Hannah who, alerted to the fact that something was happening, turned her head and saw Molly. However, in contrast, she didn't seem to share his alarm. She gazed at Molly in a neutral, bordering on disinterested, manner and showed no signs of wanting to release her hold on Charles.

"Molly," he called to her over Hannah's head.

Molly stood where she was and said nothing. The only person who needed to say something right now was Charles.

"Hannah, I need to speak to Molly." It almost sounded like an order and Hannah looked annoyed as she reluctantly released him and allowed him to take a few steps away from her. However, she didn't leave them alone and Molly felt intimidated by the fact she was still there listening to their conversation.

"I know this looks a bit odd but it's really not the way it might seem."

Molly glared at him. She'd had enough of mixed messages and Charles seeming to blow hot and cold over her depending on the proximity of Hannah to him at the time. From where Molly was standing, it had been exactly the way it looked and she was determined to put him on the spot.

"Why are you telling me?"

There was silence. Hannah was still standing there listening and Molly was conscious that Charles was holding something back, reluctant to speak in front of her. Molly was also annoyed with herself for being desperately conscious of him standing before her half naked and in spite of her conflicting emotions she was struggling not to stare at the contours and muscles of his chest and upper arms.

"Look, Ben challenged me to sit in the stocks and have sponges thrown at me. It was for the RNLI stall. I was soaked, that's why I was changing."

The dampness of his hair and the darker patches on the legs of his trousers were testament to the fact that he was probably telling the truth about why he'd taken his top off but it didn't account for Hannah hanging off him like a limpet or the fact that he'd been kissing her just now. Molly raised her eyebrows at his words and could hardly hide the scorn in her voice as she replied, "How convenient."

"It's not convenient," Charles responded, "It's true."

Molly was overwhelmed with frustration. This whole situation with Charles was tying her up in knots and she just couldn't find the words to deal with it at this moment. She certainly didn't want to have this conversation in front of Hannah. All she wanted was to get away.

"I don't care Charles. Just do what you like."

She turned and without a backward glance set out across the car park heading in the direction of the harbour and Northanger. It wasn't easy walking quickly in a full length dress but she hitched up the skirt above her knees and strode off without stopping, trying all the time to banish what she had seen from her mind but in truth seeing nothing else.

She was a quarter of the way across the causeway when she heard the sound of fast approaching footsteps behind her and then the shout, "Molly! Stop! I've got to speak to you."

She knew it was pointless trying to stay ahead of him and that he would easily catch her up but nevertheless she didn't want to stop and fuelled by her anger and frustration she kept moving as quickly as her feet would carry her.

The footsteps grew nearer and then he drew level with her and reaching out caught her by the arm.

"Molly!"

He spun her around and she pulled her arm away from him full of anger that he felt he had the right to demand her attention.

"What?"

"Please stop walking and listen to me."

She paused wondering just what he would say in his defence. He'd pulled on a dry shirt and although his hair was tousled and damp he looked more like himself. He'd finally got her to stop and listen and no one else was nearby. He took a deep breath.

"I know how that looked just now with Hannah and if you thought there's anything between us you're wrong."

Molly nodded. "Really?"

"Yes, really," Charles reiterated with emphasis frowning at the disbelieving tone of her voice. "She was just upset about something I said to her this morning, something to do with the past but I think we've drawn a line under it once and for all. It's not been easy."

Molly made no response although when she remembered the way they had been standing together what he was saying had a ring of truth. Hannah had been the one with her arms around him. He had just been patting her on her arms and kissing the top of her head rather like a parent consoling a small child who was upset.

"I suppose what I need to know," Charles continued looking into her eyes, "is whether it would bother you if you thought there _was_ something between me and Hannah?"

Molly stared at him caught between wanting to tell him the truth about the way she felt and feeling scared that she would just be exposing herself to more uncertainty. Nothing was straightforward any more the way it had seemed in Bath. Nothing was straightforward with any of the James' family. From the moment she'd arrived here she'd been unsettled.

"Why are you asking me what _I_ think? Why can't you be straight with me about what _you_ feel?" Molly replied.

Charles seemed exasperated by her response and shrugged. "Maybe because I don't know where I am with you. You don't seem comfortable around me."

Molly couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Well, perhaps it's difficult for me to feel _comfortable_ around you with all the problems in your family."

She had his attention now. "What you do you mean _all the problems in my family_?"

"Do you really need me to spell it out?" Molly cried.

Charles stared at her. "I think you'd better."

"Well, what about Emma being under your father's thumb and not allowed to go off and study and being scared to tell him that she's seeing Francois?"

"You knew that before you came here. I was honest with you about that situation so don't pretend that's a reason."

"Alright," Molly conceded, "Then what about your mother's sudden death in a terrible storm that _apparently_ wasn't an accident and the fact that your father seemed to hate her friendship with Nat Mortimer and no one wants to talk about her. And _you,_ keeping secrets about….Hannah?"

As she spoke Molly could see that Charles was totally confused. He was staring at her with an expression that was caught halfway between outrage and laughter. Seeing that look Molly wondered for the first time just how wrong she might have got her facts and when he spoke it definitely seemed as if that was the case.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

She hesitated wondering where to begin and saw the expression on his face grow sterner as he considered the accusations she was laying before him and continued, "I suggest you tell me what you're inferring in relation to my mother's death, right now."

For the very first time Molly felt a little afraid of Charles. There was something in his expression she hadn't seen before; anger and it was directed at her.

"Your mother.. died suddenly, didn't she.. during a storm." Her nerves were causing her to falter.

Charles nodded. "Yes. Seven years ago."

"And Emma was away but your father was here," Molly continued.

Again he nodded. "So was I and so was Harry."

Molly hadn't known this fact. She paused and Charles stepped in. "Why did you say her death wasn't an accident? What the hell are you suggesting?"

"Someone told me it wasn't an accident."

Charles slowly nodded his head taking in this information. "So you assumed what?" He was glaring at her but didn't wait for an answer. "That my father did away with my mother because he was jealous?" The sarcasm in his voice was painful and the look on Molly's face as he spoke confirmed that this had been in her mind. Charles narrowed his eyes in disgust at the idea and shook his head. "This isn't the plot of a movie, Molly."

The patronising tone of his words wounded her. She felt suddenly ridiculous.

"I suppose you want the truth?" he continued. His voice was brusque and business like and Molly hated it.

"My mother died suddenly and it happened during a major storm which cut Northanger off from the mainland for two days. You're right it wasn't an accident. She had an undiagnosed heart condition. Her heart just stopped suddenly without warning. It was a terrible shock to all of us but it hit Emma the hardest because she wasn't here as she was away at school. As for my father, I can assure you that he loved my mother and was devastated by her death." He paused to allow his words to sink in and gazed towards Woodston. "I'm assuming you've imagined all of this because of conversations with Nat Mortimer." He paused waiting for confirmation but Molly couldn't bring herself to say anything. Just the word 'imagined' had shamed her into silence.

"Nat and my father never got on particularly well when my mother was alive, it's true. They just aren't each other's type of person if you must know and there was a legal issue over the business premises after my mother died which sorely tried my father's patience. I'm not saying Nat was in the wrong over that issue but my father didn't really want to deal with it at the time. Consequently, I don't think either of them has a high opinion of the other."

There was silence. Molly felt humiliated. She had allowed her suspicions to run away with her. She'd been afraid to speak directly to Emma about her mother's death for fear of stirring up anxieties and due to the snatches of conversation with others had instead imagined that something underhand had taken place and the storm had been a convenient way of covering it up. Charles was right. It was just like the plot of one of those stupid black and white films that Jack Thorpe liked and she also remembered the evening with Emma watching _Rebecca_ with its dark, mysterious overtones. She remembered Emma telling her that as a child she had imagined Abbey House was Manderley. Molly hadn't consciously set out to be suspicious but being here had coloured her views. She'd been stupid and right now she felt like crawling under a big rock somewhere especially when Charles, recalling the second part of her accusation said, "And what did you mean about me hiding Hannah's secrets?"

"Nothing."

If he'd just stop staring at her she'd run away right now.

"It wasn't nothing, was it, Molly?"

She felt his eyes boring into her and knew she wasn't going to get away without telling him the truth. She'd already made a fool of herself and whatever opinion of her he had must be pretty low by now. She didn't think she could make the situation worse.

"I heard you talking to her on Tuesday in the yard. I know about you and her and how she was pregnant and ran off and left you before you went to Afghanistan five years ago."

Charles visibly blanched. He didn't speak for a full ten seconds and when he did it was almost through gritted teeth.

"Is that's why you've been behaving weirdly towards me? Is that why you got drunk on Tuesday evening? I thought you just couldn't handle the local cider and to be honest I felt sorry for you. I didn't know you set out to make yourself deliberately paralytic." There was a hint of scorn in his voice. He regarded her with suspicion. "This is all beginning to make sense. Emma said you'd been asking her a lot of questions about me and Hannah when we were young." He took a few steps back and almost laughed at her, "What are you? Some kind of second-rate Miss Marple?" Molly started at the derisory words and it jolted her to respond.

"Don't speak to me like that. P'raps you should look at yourself before calling me names. It's not _me_ who's cheating?"

"Cheating?" His confusion was matched by his fury.

"Yeah, as good as," Molly cried unable to bear the situation any longer. "You're flirting with me all the time, saying and doing things to make me think you like me and then you're making up with your old girlfriend at the same time. Are you one of those men who are never happy unless they've got two women on the go? Can't you make up your mind?"

He stared at her. "You are so wrong it's almost laughable." He turned and took a few steps away from her and a few deep breaths trying to compose himself before turning back to face her.

"Why on earth would I be struggling to decide if I want to get together with a woman who cheated on _me_ five years ago by sleeping with my brother and dropping the bombshell of being pregnant by him just two days before I went off to Afghanistan."

Molly was shocked and stunned into silence. All along she had realised that Charles was angry and unsettled about something to do with Hannah but his reason for being angry was now apparent. He hadn't been struggling to decide whether he wanted Hannah back at all. He had been struggling to forgive the past and put it behind him. She must have hurt him a great deal. His own brother must have hurt him even more. Charles' words at the party in Bath came back to her ' _he's popular with the ladies'_.

"So, it wasn't your baby?" Molly said quietly.

He shook his head. "As it turned out there wasn't any baby. False alarm according to the email she sent me a two weeks later along with her apologies and 'can't we start again' speech. Not that we ever really got started. It wasn't quite like that."

They lapsed into silence. Only the distant sound of the funfair carried on the breeze from Woodston could be heard. At length he said very quietly, "I'm not sure I understand what goes on in your mind?" He was looking at her as if she was a stranger.

Molly felt stupid beyond belief. "I'm sorry but everything's just been so awkward here."

"Awkward?" Charles shot back at her. "That would be _awkward_ as in supposing my father's a murderer and I'm a two-timing philanderer."

"I meant there are just too many secrets. I got it wrong." She cried.

"Yeah, you certainly got a lot wrong," Charles' voice was harsh to her ears and he looked her in the eyes as he continued, "And so did I."

"Well perhaps you shouldn't have involved me in your secrets in the first place."

He nodded. "Yes, I made a bad call."

She stared at him. It was over. Everything was ruined. Without another word she turned and headed for Abbey House moving so quickly that she was almost running to get away from him and this time he let her go.

They were both lost in their own thoughts. For a brief moment they had almost connected and spoken the truth of their feelings and now they were as far apart as they had ever been

X-X-X-X

Molly had never packed a bag so quickly in her life. She emptied the wardrobe, stuffing the contents into the holdall, threw all her toiletries into a plastic bag and gathered her purse and phone up from the bedside table. The carnival costume lay discarded on the floor and she had pulled on jeans, a tee-shirt and some trainers. She wasn't going to stay here a moment longer than necessary. She thought briefly of writing a note for Emma but decided there was no point. By the time Charles got through with his account of what had happened Emma wouldn't be the least bit interested in anything Molly had to say.

Molly descended the stairs to the hall and hesitated for a moment wondering where Charles might be. She didn't think she could face him again after everything that had been said and she hoped he wasn't going to be outside. She stood still and listened but there was no sound anywhere. Perhaps he had gone back to Woodston after she'd walked away. She hadn't bothered to turn back or looked out of the window but headed straight for her room with only one intention. She took a deep breath and opened the front door.

There was no one outside and she could see no one at the beach. She made her way down the steep zigzag path as quickly as she could, but the bag was heavier than she had expected and unwieldy. As she reached the slipway onto the causeway she glanced across the bay. The tide was coming in but the causeway was still well above the waterline. It was only four hundred metres to the harbour and wouldn't take her long. She knew she couldn't stay here another night and set out walking as quickly as she could in the direction of Woodston.

She realised her mistake too late. She was half way across the causeway and the water was already lapping over the top and beginning to wash over her feet. She felt the icy cold water soak through her trainers and remembered Emma's words about the fast incoming tide. She stood still wondering whether to run for the mainland or run back as fast as she could to Northanger but she was carrying a heavy bag which had slowed her progress and already the causeway behind was beginning to disappear. If she tried to run back she might lose her balance, slip to one side and she'd be up to her waist in water in no time. She couldn't swim and she felt panic starting to rise. Her chest was growing tight with the anxiety and a sob escaped. The water had reached her ankles. She was in desperate trouble.

X-X-X-X

Charles poured himself a whisky and felt the liquid blaze a fiery path to his belly, hoping it would soothe his turbulent emotions. He couldn't believe what had just happened. He was angry, exasperated, and annoyed beyond words by Molly and yet still conscious that it all shouldn't end like this.

The thoughts that Molly had been entertaining had frankly shocked him but already he could see that she wasn't entirely to blame. He'd brought her into this far from average situation and placed his trust in her. He'd been too harsh with her just now. She'd never set a foot wrong in respect of Emma and in only a short time had become the best friend his sister had ever had. He couldn't really blame her over Hannah either. Ever since he'd showed up here last Saturday Hannah had been an unwelcome thorn in his side. He'd naively supposed that they could forget about the past and be friends as they had once been. It had taken a long time for Charles to forget about her betrayal with Harry and longer still to be able to forgive his brother but he had managed it probably because he seldom saw Harry and he hadn't seen Hannah again until last week. Seeing her here again had been more difficult than he had imagined. He had struggled to forget what she had put him through back then. He had been on the verge of getting serious about her five years ago although he reasoned that it may have been his forthcoming deployment playing on his mind and the need to have something to hold on to whilst he was away. Then she'd dropped the bombshell about Harry. Of course, the reason she'd told him was because Harry had done his usual disappearing trick at the first sign of trouble and she'd been desperate. He hadn't handled it well and she'd cleared out without a word until the email two weeks later. He'd made a curt reply and that had been that until this week. He'd tried to tell her on Tuesday why he was finding it difficult to be around her but she didn't seem to understand and persisted in trying to attract his attention. However, this morning when she'd tried yet again to sidle up to him as he was getting changed for the float he'd told her plain as day to leave him alone because there was no chance of them ever being together again. Actually, he'd been a little too blunt in his choice of words which he'd regretted later. Needless to say the two hours on the float had been awkward and he'd been glad to escape as soon as they returned to Woodston even if it was only to allow copious locals to throw wet sponges at him. Hannah however, had chosen her moment well, he now reflected, in which to ask for a final conciliatory hug to say goodbye. She knew him too well. It wasn't in his nature to be hard-hearted and she knew he wouldn't refuse. Just his luck to be caught in such a compromising position by Molly.

He realised with a start that he'd been harbouring a completely irrational sense of guilt about Hannah. He'd been holding back and hiding his feelings from Molly since he got here because she he'd been uncomfortable when Hannah was around even though he had no feelings for her any more. He had nothing to apologise for and nothing to blame himself for on Hannah's score but the same couldn't be said about his behaviour to Molly. He thought that she must be upstairs in her room. He wondered if ought to go and talk to her or whether she would even be prepared to listen to him after everything he'd said out there on the causeway.

Charles got up and walked over to the window, sipping the whisky and pondering what to do next. He stared across to the mainland, just about able to make out the bright lights of the funfair at the recreation ground in Woodston before moving his gaze back in the direction of the harbour. Then he saw her out there, a small figure part way across the rapidly submerging causeway and realised at once what had happened. He'd been sat in here having a stiff drink, trying to make sense of his feelings and assuming she was hiding in her room upstairs too afraid to face him but she hadn't been there at all. She had tried to leave and chosen the wrong moment.

Charles' heart was in his mouth but he didn't hesitate. He ran out of the house and at full pelt down the zigzag track to the beach heading for the boat house. It wouldn't be locked. He knew that. It was never locked for reasons just like this. He reached it within a minute and roughly pulled the doors open. The boat was there on a small trailer. He pulled the trailer down onto the slipway and waded into the water with it. He untied the boat, shoved off and jumped in. As he started the outboard motor he prayed it wouldn't peter out and fail to catch but as if sensing the urgency of the moment it roared into life first time and he set out towards Molly as fast as it would go.

X-X-X-X

The water was above Molly's knees and she didn't dare move although the tide was starting to drag her back and forth and trying to hold herself steady clutching her heavy bag was almost impossible. Each time she feared she would slip from the causeway into the water and the effort of trying stay still was exhausting. She wanted to cry but her terror wouldn't let her. She couldn't believe she had been so stupid. She'd been warned but she hadn't been thinking straight. She had been so mortified and upset by Charles' words that she had rushed off and put herself in terrible danger.

The flow of the tide was getting stronger. She didn't think she could hold on any longer and then she heard the rhythmic putter of an outboard motor in the distance. She turned her head and saw a little boat heading in her direction and recognised Charles at the helm. She waved her free arm at him and he raised his hand in acknowledgement. Relief washed over her. He drew near and reaching her slowed and then cut the engine. He took out an oar and held it out to her.

"Grab this and pull the boat towards you."

She caught the end and with an effort pulled the boat near to her. Charles reached out and took the bag from her before grabbing both her arms.

"Careful, don't tip the boat if you can help it."

Molly took a step towards him and slipped into the icy water. She fought to control her panic as she felt herself move out of her depth, her feet slipping off the causeway but Charles had hold of her arms and didn't let go. Slowly he pulled her upwards and into the boat. It was all very ungainly and undignified but bit by bit he eased her from the icy water into the bottom of the boat trying to keep it still and level. He looked down at her lying there, white faced, shivering and still looking afraid and without another word moved back to the motor, started it up again and taking hold of the engine tiller turned the boat around and headed back to Northanger.

Molly lay in the boat in silence. She was soaked, freezing and shivering as well as contemplating how close she had come to drowning. She had never been so afraid in her life and couldn't speak. To make matters worse Charles had said nothing. He stared into the distance steering the boat back towards Northanger looking grim and his silence was terrible to her. When the boat finally hit the beach again, he climbed out and held it steady whilst Molly got out and started to walk stiffly and unsteadily across the sand struggling to make the muscles in her legs to work. Charles heaved the boat up out of the water and then walked after her. She heard him approaching and stopped. When he drew level she turned and he looked her squarely in the face and said in a quiet strained voice, "What the hell were you doing?"

"Leaving." Her teeth were chattering uncontrollably

He took a step back and a deep breath before rounding on her, "You fucking idiot. You could have drowned. Did you stop to think for one minute about how dangerous that was?"

"Yeah, obviously," Molly yelled back at him, "'Cos I've got a death wish or something."

"What if I hadn't seen you?" he continued sounding even more furious.

"Well you did," Molly shouted, "You did, so you can pat yourself on the back that at least you're not as fucking stupid as I am."

She turned and started to stomp up the hill to the house breathing heavily with the effort in her wet clothes as a stiff breeze blew across the water from the mainland, chilling her to the bone.

Charles watched her go and then turned back to the boat. He needed to get it up on the trailer and put it away in the boathouse straight away or his father would start asking awkward questions that he really didn't want to answer. All the time, however, his mind kept turning over what had just happened. _How could she have been so stupid after everything she'd been told about the tide?_ _How could she have taken such a risk?_ He closed his eyes for a few seconds. He knew the answer. He left the boat and headed up the hill to the house.

X-X-X-X

Molly could barely see where she was going by the time she reached the top of the hill. She had made a bad situation ten times worse and she had been humiliated for a second time. The tears that had been paralysed by fear when she had been out there on the submerging causeway alone began to flow in earnest. Charles had been angry the first time but any small vestige of respect must have been totally obliterated after this fiasco.

She went around to the back of the house and entered the kitchen. She was dripping wet and immediately pulled off her shoes and socks and feeling the cold clinging of the tee-shirt against her skin pulled it over her head and threw it onto the floor at her feet. She reached for a towel, roughly dried her hair and tried to rub herself dry but she couldn't stop shivering and knew that she needed to go and get a hot shower.

X-X-X-X

"Molly!"

She froze on hearing his voice. She stood with her back to him and he could see that she had already thrown off her tee shirt, her soaking wet trainers and socks and now stood bare foot on the tiled kitchen floor wearing only her trousers and her bra. She was shivering and looked as though she had been about to undo her trousers and rip them off as well but she had stopped and stood still having heard him speak.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. His voice sounded terse and Molly waited without turning to face him conscious of being half undressed. He could see her shoulders rising and falling as if she were struggling to contain her emotions. He couldn't decide if she was angry or upset or very possibly both but he didn't want her to run away from him. Not again.

"I shouldn't have been angry like that but I couldn't help it."

She turned her head, her eyes blazing with annoyance, "Yeah, you've made it pretty clear what you think of me. You don't need to say it again."

"I do," he said very softly, "because I didn't tell you what I really think."

She heard emotion in his voice and she sensed she had misunderstood him. She turned to face him and waited.

"It was fear," he said at last. "I was terrified something could have happened to you. I just lost it."

Molly's lip trembled. She'd been terrified too and she'd been struggling to keep it together from the moment he'd pulled her out of the water and saved her.

"I'm such a fuck up," she whispered.

"You're not."

He crossed the room in three strides and without another moment's hesitation pulled her into his arms. She fell in an ungainly fashion against him not caring in the slightest as they crashed into each other and stumbled, knocking a kitchen chair sideways in the process. The time for hedging around the issue was over. The decision was made. No going back. They found each other's lips in an instant, the kiss an expression of mutual relief that the uncertainty was finally over. He held her fast against him, his hands on her bare skin exploring everything new and delightful about her as she pressed herself into him, her fingers running through his hair, their kisses frantic and all consuming. He'd never felt this before; unconditional passion, no second thoughts, no reservations, nothing but this moment and her. He couldn't tear himself away and it was with a sense of anguish he felt her draw back from him and groaned. Her lips broke away from his and suddenly he was gasping, breathless and staring into her eyes looking for an answer. He saw honesty written there. She felt it too. She took a step back and wordlessly reached out her hand to him. He didn't need to ask her anything. He took her hand in his and she led him from the kitchen and upstairs.

X-X-X-X

"They'll be wondering where we are," Molly sighed rolling away from him and attempting to get out of bed, wrapping the loose sheet around her, suddenly feeling shy knowing he would be drinking in the sight of her.

"No you don't. Come here." He moved across the bed and pulled her close to him revelling yet again in the sensation of her bare skin next to his. "You're gorgeous." He nuzzled her neck. She sighed, relaxed and was pliant under his touch allowing them to relive the pleasure of the afternoon once again, finally banishing all the anguish and misunderstanding that had preceded it.

"Oh, God," he groaned a long while later holding her close. "Going back to Warminster is going to be worse than being in Afghan after this."

The memory of the past two hours with Molly, lying here in her bed was going to have to sustain him for quite some time to come and already he was wondering impatiently when they would be able to meet and be alone or spend a whole night together. He already knew that snatched moments would not be enough. He needed her as he had never needed any woman before. He'd had relationships before, some more serious than others but he'd never felt this. He'd never loved anyone body and soul. It had shaken him to the core to realise that something different had happened to him today. Everything had been slowly leading to this moment and it had been a revelation.

"I love you."

He couldn't deny it and he didn't want to.

She gazed back at him.

"I love you, too."

It was the most natural thing in the world to say it to him.

He kissed her, slowly, gently, tenderly and she felt her head spin. The enormity of her emotions finally caught up with her and a tear formed in the corner of her eye and began its slow course across her cheekbone. He reached up and brushed it away with the gentlest touch of his finger.

"Don't cry."

She shook her head. "I'm just happy, that's all."

A slow smile spread across his face as he whispered, "That's all I want."

* * *

 ** _Sorry, I can't promise another fast update, although I'll do my best. In the meantime you'll just have to use your imaginations…_**


	16. Chapter 16

**_Thank you all for the lovely comments on Chapter Fifteen. I'm a bit relieved they finally managed to sort themselves out, too. It must be all plain sailing from here on…musn't it?_**

 **Chapter Sixteen**

When Molly thought back to the evening of the Woodston Carnival she wondered how she and Charles had managed to get away with their late arrival at the barbecue and the dubious excuse of having had trouble with the boat which had delayed their departure after Molly had found it necessary to return to Abbey House for spare clothes. What was even more surprising to Molly was how they had managed not to be seen by anyone during the many moments that evening in which one or the other of them had taken the opportunity to reach for the other's hand, slip an arm around the other's waist or Charles had surreptitiously dropped a kiss on her neck not to mention one particularly stunning moment when he had whisked her away out of sight of everyone during the firework display and made sure she was in no doubt of how much he felt for her.

"The earth's moving for real and I can see stars," Molly giggled as they broke away from a long lingering kiss after being interrupted by a series of ear-splitting explosions.

He held her close and laughed, "I'm so glad I have that effect on you."

"You already knew that didn't you?"

She was thinking of their afternoon together and he'd thought of little else all evening. He wished they could have stayed on Northanger together but both of them had reluctantly realised that they ought to show their faces at the carnival as Emma was expecting them as well as the General. As much as they felt there was nothing to hide, both instinctively sensed it would be better to keep their relationship to themselves for a little while. Molly hadn't said anything to Charles but at the back of her mind was the thought that the General might not really like the idea of them being together. She hadn't mentioned to anyone that she had seen inside Sylvie James studio but she had a feeling that there was a black mark against her in the General's eyes. He had continued to be polite in public but she hadn't forgotten the implied threat that day and the advice of Mr Allen had come back to haunt her, _stay on the right side of the General_. She saw no reason to say anything to anyone. After all, there was no reason to even think of it again. All she could think of now was that Charles loved her and she loved him. Nothing else mattered.

The days following the carnival had been relaxed and happy. Now that they were free from the carnival preparations Charles, Molly and Emma were able to get out and about. Being away from Northanger and the presence of the General was liberating for Molly and Emma's spirits lifted considerably whenever they were away. Together the three of them enjoyed days out, happy company and good-natured banter and Emma and Charles enjoyed showing Molly the sights. They visited St Ives and wandered around the narrow streets and alleyways, looking into its numerous galleries and enjoying the atmosphere. For someone with Emma's talents it was awash with places of interest and she stopped frequently to peruse workshops and studios. She was busy inside one of the studios looking at some sculpture when Charles took the opportunity to steal a kiss from Molly while they waited outside. It was only the briefest moment of contact but it warmed and reassured her. Although they had broken apart Charles still had his hand on Molly's waist when Emma appeared in the doorway and glanced in their direction. He hastily stepped away and offered to fetch ice cream for them all from an ice cream parlour two doors down whilst Emma walked over to join Molly. She glanced after her brother heading in the opposite direction and said in a casual way, "It's no good trying to hide it, Molly. I know."

"Know what?"

"About you and Charles, of course, " Emma replied with a laugh, "and if you want my opinion, I think it's wonderful."

Molly smiled in relief. "I didn't think we'd made it that obvious."

"Oh, I've seen you being cautious around other people and I daresay the world in general wouldn't notice," Emma agreed. "But remember, I know you both pretty well. I've seen the way you look at each other and I know what it's like to be in love and to try to hide it."

Molly reached out and grasped Emma's hand. She squeezed it tight. "I wish it could be you and Francois here with us, too."

Emma shrugged. "Well, who knows? Maybe one day it will. In any case, I've made a decision. Next year I'll be twenty one and I'll come into the money that mum left me. I won't need to rely on Dad. He might have held the purse strings until now but I've made up my mind. I'm going to apply for Art College and I'll pay for it myself. I'm strong enough now. I'm going to stand on my own two feet and I'm going to see Francois whether my father likes it or not."

Molly reached out and hugged her friend. It was wonderful to hear her speak with such determination and to be making plans to move forward independently with her life.

"We'll always be there for you, Emma, whatever happens."

"I know," she said with a broad smile. "My two best friends in the world."

"What's this?" Charles said returning with three ice cream cornets in his hand and seeing the girls hugging in the street.

"It's me making a decision about the future," Emma declared taking an ice cream from him and proceeding to inform him of her plans finishing with the threat, "so watch out world."

Charles smiled. "Hope it's ready for you but it's about time."

"Yes," Emma said. "And it's also about time you stopped trying to pretend you're not in love with Molly when I'm around."

Charles stared at her in surprise then laughed. "I should have known you'd guess."

"It wasn't that difficult. I could tell you liked her on that afternoon in Bath when we went for lunch. Mind you, I could also see you kissing her in the shop mirror just now."

Molly blushed and Emma laughed all the more and said, "Just be yourselves around me, I don't mind."

It was a relief to both Charles and Molly to be able to honestly show their feelings and the day passed happily. It felt so good to just be able to walk hand in hand, to hug or touch each other when they wanted without having be conscious of anyone around them although when they returned to Northanger they reverted to their normal behaviour and although Emma said nothing about it she seemed to naturally understand that her father wasn't to be party to the information, at least for now.

In spite of their happiness both Charles and Molly were conscious that his leave was drawing to a close and there had seldom been much time alone together. Whenever they were on Northanger the General seemed to be around a great deal of the time, always present at meal times and frequently requesting Charles' assistance on business matters which took him away from Molly. When they were able to get away things were different but both Charles and Molly knew that without them Emma was isolated and knowing how much she liked their company and that their activities would be limited once Charles returned to Warminster they tried to do as much as they could together for the last few days.

"I hope I get my reward in heaven, "Charles remarked on the first occasion that he and Molly had manged to snatch a couple of hours together whilst Emma had accompanied her father into Penzance. She had asked him if she could go with him to buy some painting materials. He hadn't seemed pleased but had agreed and Molly had the distinct impression that Emma had only offered in order to give them some privacy.

"You're getting your reward now aren't you?" Molly laughed as she lay curled up with his arms around her, both of them relaxed and fulfilled as they lay in his bed. Charles had waited only long enough for the General's car to reach the harbour at Woodston before gathering her up and carrying her off to his room whilst she laughed and told him to put her down or he'd have to explain a back injury to his C.O. when he returned.

"Well, that's true," Charles murmured in response to Molly, whilst kissing the hollow below her earlobe, "But I really meant a reward for spending so much time playing three's a crowd when we could have been alone."

"Don't be unkind. You've got Emma to thank for this."

"I know, " Charles said. "But it cost me."

Molly turned her head and wriggled around to look at him her mouth dropping open with surprise. "What do you mean?"

Charles was trying to suppress a smile. "We negotiated. Although I think she would have done it for nothing if I'd begged her."

Molly was caught between embarrassment and laughter. "You, bribed your sister to give us some time together?"

"Are you complaining?" He looked her in the eye adding, "Because I didn't notice you complaining a little while ago."

Molly held his gaze trying not to laugh. "What did it cost you?"

"Oh, you'll find out," Charles said moving her hair to one side and starting to kiss her, gently tracing the curve of her neck. "It's a surprise."

"Will I like it?" Molly gasped.

"mmh," he said unable to speak as the kisses moved slowly in the direction of her shoulder. He stopped and lightly ran a fingertip along the curve of the bone causing her to shiver in anticipation.

"Yes, I think you'll like it."

She turned herself around in his arms so that she could look him in the eyes and taking his face in her hands, kissed him on the lips. She smiled at him.

"Alright, I trust you."

X-X-X-X

"Bleedin' Shakespeare?"

Charles couldn't help laughing at the expression on Molly's face.

"I said I trusted you and you're taking me to see Shakespeare!"

"Now, Molly, what was it you said? Don't be unkind it's because of Emma."

"I know," Molly replied turning her head to stare at him. "But why did you think I'd like it?"

"Because it's not just anywhere." Charles said returning her gaze. "It's special."

They were sitting in the car at the harbour in Woodston, waiting for Emma who had popped into the General Store to buy some supplies. It was a gorgeous day, fine, dry and hot and they were already sweltering even though it was only eleven in the morning. The news that the outing was to include a trip to the theatre to watch a Shakespearean play had come as an unwelcome surprise to Molly.

"Why are we leaving so early if we're going to the theatre and why did Emma tell me to bring my swimming costume?"

"You'll see."

Charles wouldn't be drawn on any more details and even when Emma returned bearing food for a picnic she refused to disclose any more information despite many attempts to tease it out of her all of which Charles and Emma found highly amusing. Molly was perplexed especially when they didn't stop in Penzance, the only sizeable town in the area that might have housed a theatre, and continued westwards. They had passed signs for Lands End and Molly was beginning to wonder if they would run out of road when they turned off and headed down a country road that grew progressively narrower until driving into the village of Porthcurno. The name rang a bell in Molly's mind but she still wasn't sure why they were here. They parked up and then gathering all their belongings together followed a track down through a narrow valley lined with ferns and gorse bushes until emerging into a sheltered cove of dazzling white sand and beyond it sea of such an intense azure, sparkling in the bright midday sun that Molly gasped, "That's amazing!"

Emma smiled broadly. "It is isn't it."

Then Molly remembered where she had heard the name, Porthcurno, before. It was one of Sylvie James' paintings, the one that Emma had mentioned at dinner on the night of the storm. She had talked about the incredible colour of the sea and now Molly could see for herself what she had meant. She'd never seen a beach like it before and although not a swimmer even she was longing for a dip in the clear, sparkling water.

The beach was still quite quiet as the holiday season had not begun in earnest and with the heat beating down it wasn't long before Molly felt the need to slip behind a conveniently large boulder and with the help of a large beach towel change into her swimming costume. Charles and Emma, knowing what to expect, were already wearing their swimwear so that almost as soon as Molly appeared, Charles reached for her hand to lead her to the water. She took it expecting him to walk sedately with her so that she could test the temperature with her toe. Charles, however, had other ideas and in one swift movement threw her over his shoulder and raced towards the water, wading in above his knees and threatening to dunk her. The splashes of the water on her bare skin alone as he had run into the water convinced her that the waters of the Atlantic were pretty chilly even on a hot day like today and trying not to squeal she yelled, "Don't you dare."

"Or what?"

He was laughing and as she was lying over his shoulder Molly knew she was helpless and said desperately, "I won't kiss you ever again."

He slowly released his grip on her and let her slide down his body until her feet were in the water.

"It's cold."

He held her fast against him, suspended above the water, her face now level with his.

"What shall I do?" He frowned as if struggling with a dilemma.

She kissed him. "Does that help?"

She saw a smirk on his face, a glint in his eye and realised her mistake too late. They hit the water side on together, the coldness a shock to Molly's system. She screamed and stood up immediately, shaking, gasping and pushing the hair out of her eyes.

"You prannet!" she yelled at him. "It's bloody freezing."

He sat up in the shallows, shook the water from his hair, threw back his head and laughed at her outrage and suddenly in spite of the cold Molly couldn't help laughing too. She jumped on him and pushed him back into the water but he grabbed hold of her a second time and dragged her down with him. When they emerged again he had his arms around her.

"So, was that definite about the never kissing me again."

Molly pulled a face. "You might gonna have to wait and see."

"Ok, I love a challenge."

Emma who had waded in waist deep and was about to go for a swim, turned her head and smiled. Molly and Charles were like a pair of kids larking about , splashing each other in the shallows and it reminded her of days long past when they had come here as children with their mother but today for the first time in a very long time she wasn't saddened by the memory. She knew she'd come a long way. She gazed up at the sky. _Maybe one day I'll bring my own children here._ The thought made her happy and she struck out into the cool water.

X-X-X-X

"Did you enjoy it?" Emma looked eagerly at her friend as they walked back to the car after the performance of 'The Winter's Tale'.

"I didn't think it would be so funny."

Charles and Emma exchanged looks. Charles was amused but Emma looked surprised.

"I'm not sure that's the right answer, Molly," Charles ventured.

"Well, it _was_ funny when that man ran off and a bear got him, not that we saw a bear but the noises were funny and that stuff at the end when the queen pretended to be a statue or something and then sprang to life and anyone could tell who those two blokes were. You know the ones I mean, they weren't supposed to be there and as for that Florizel, well he was a bit full of himself. Sorry if I wasn't supposed to laugh, but I couldn't help it."

"It wasn't really supposed to be a comedy," Emma said. "But Shakespeare did write some wonderful comedies. We could always go and see one of those."

Molly pulled a face, "No, you're alright, Emma."

Charles laughed. "She's going to take some convincing, Emma."

"It _was_ good." Molly ventured, "I'm just not used to stuff like that and the theatre was amazing. Thanks for bringing me here, I mean it."

Her praise of the Minack Theatre was genuine. She had never seen anything like it before; an amphitheatre carved out of the edge of a cliff close to Porthcurno with the incredible backdrop of the sea and on a night like this, a sunset that had bathed the sky in hues of red, pink and orange. They had sat close together on a ledge, his arm around her watching the play unfold below them and although Molly hadn't understood everything she had still sensed the drama and the underlying meaning of the words even if she had found it unintentionally funny.

"Thanks for coming here with me, today," Emma said as they reached the car. "It means a lot to me."

Charles reached out and hugged her. They didn't say anything but Molly appreciated once again what a wonderful relationship they had.

It had been a long day and by the time they reached Woodston, Molly was feeling tired and a bit sleepy but the tide was in and they were forced to get out of the car and leave it at the harbour. Charles had asked Joe Spargo to tow the boat from Northanger over for them, anticipating that they would need to make use of it for the final leg of the journey. They climbed in and he switched on the navigation lights and started the engine as they covered the short distance in a few minutes. The fresh air on the open water revived Molly and by the time they reached Northanger she felt invigorated again.

They climbed out of the boat and Charles pulled it up onto the slipway.

"I'll help you," Molly called and Emma glancing from one to the other and not wanting to be in the way said, "If you can manage, I'll leave you to it. I'm a bit tired."

Charles looked up. "We're fine, Em. You go on ahead."

"Goodnight," Molly called and Emma waved and headed off up the track.

Charles gazed after her. "Bless her for being so tactful."

They got the boat up onto the trailer and Charles stored it away in the boat house shutting the doors behind him before turning back to Molly. He sighed and reached out to take her in his arms. She rested her head against his chest, feeling him breathe in and out.

They were both conscious that it was the last night of his leave. As Charles held her close the thought of returning to Warminster without being able to spend the night with her was killing him. He reached up a hand to stroke her hair and bending his head close to hers whispered, "Can I stay with you tonight?"

Molly lifted her head to look at him. "Oh, God, I really want you to but do you think it's a good idea with others here?"

Charles sighed. "Emma won't care and as for my father, well, why should he find out. I'll be quiet."

Molly giggled, "It should be me saying that."

"Well, try then," Charles murmured in a voice that made her feel weak. He bent his head to kiss her and she knew she wasn't going to refuse.

"Ok."

X-X-X-X

The weather had broken. Molly lay in Charles' arms in the cold grey light of early morning and listened to the rain lashing against the window. He stirred and pulled her closer to him without even opening his eyes. She gazed at him suddenly feeling dread at his impending departure. He would be leaving very early this morning and she hated to disturb his sleep but she knew he would have to get up soon. She had no doubt he would be tired later. He had crept into her room an hour or so after their return from the theatre and they had both struggled not to laugh at the creaky floorboards or the fact that the bed now seemed to have become far nosier than either of them had previously remembered.

Later they had lain together in the dark, speaking in hushed voices about the past few days.

"You must have thought I was mad on Saturday," Molly observed. "All that stuff I got mixed up about. I'm sorry and I'm still a bit embarrassed."

"I didn't blame you for long," Charles said squeezing her arm as if to reassure her. "You were right. We aren't like lots of other families and I do often wish it was different and that my mother was still here with us."

"I wish I'd met her."

"You would have liked her and she would have liked you."

He kissed the top of her head and sighed. "Anyway, it wasn't just you misunderstanding things. I should have handled things better with Hannah. I don't blame you for getting mad with me. The truth is I didn't realise how awkward being around her would feel, not because I wanted to be with her anymore but just because it stirred up memories of that time and of that tour in Afghan, the bad tour. I just wanted her to back off but you know Hannah. She wouldn't, so I backed off as much as I could but I nearly ruined it with you instead."

Molly hugged him. "Well you didn't. I'm here now."

"Oh God," he groaned, "I'm going to miss you so much, especially on that bloody weekend exercise coming up. I'll be thinking of you when we're slap bang in the middle of nowhere getting soaked in a downpour."

"Charming!"

"Yeah, the thought of you lying here now certainly will be when I have to compare it with lying in the mud next to a dozen, dirty, stinking men."

Molly giggled. "You make army life sound so attractive."

"It has its moments and it's all I ever wanted to do. What about you? Didn't you say you were thinking about the future?"

Molly tilted her chin and tried to look at him in the half-light. "I think I can do more than I have until now. I've been drifting along since I left school and then chance, or luck or something brought me to Bath and everything's changed. Now I really want to make something of myself. Does that sound stupid?"

"Of course not. " He hugged her again. "Go for it. Find the thing you want to do and give it everything you have only…how shall I put it…I hope there'll still be a small space for me in your world. A little corner will do, I'm used to roughing it in wild country."

Molly laughed. "Of course there'll be room for you if want to be there."

"I think you know the answer to that."

"Hmm," Molly raised herself on one elbow and gazed at him, just about able to make out his eyes in the light. "Well, just in case I'm not sure. Could you remind me a little bit?"

He chuckled softly and pulled her down towards him. "If you insist."

Now in the grey light of morning, Molly caught sight of the clock on the bedside table and couldn't help sighing. She didn't want Charles to go but he had no choice in the matter as he was due back and had to leave. She leaned over him and kissed him. He stirred, smiled and forced his eyes open to see her watching him. He reached a hand up to stroke her hair.

"That's what I call a lovely sight in the morning." His voice was thick with sleep

"Ditto."

She lay down resting her head on his chest and he wrapped his arms around her. They didn't speak, simply lay there listening to the rain on the window outside until Charles said very quietly, "I'm sorry but I've got to go."

Reluctantly he disentangled himself from Molly, stretched his limbs and exhaled as he pulled the sheet back and swung his legs out of the bed. Molly lay back on the pillows and watched him as he stood and dressed. As he moved she could see that he was already throwing off the cloak of sleep and when he turned to face her he was alert and focused. He looked down at her lying with the sheet wrapped around her and tucked up under her arms and fought the urge to lie down next to her again but he knew better. It was no good prolonging the goodbyes it would only make things worse. Instead he sat down next to her on the edge of the bed.

"Did I tell you I love you?"

She smiled, "Yeah. A few times."

"Come up to Bath as soon as you can and I'll try to tell you some more." He leaned over and kissed her gently. "I'll call you." He stood up and made to leave.

"I love you."

He turned his head. She looked adorable lying there and it was hard to tear himself away in spite of his resolve.

"Are you trying to get me put on a charge because if you keep looking at me like that, I'm definitely going to be late on duty?"

"Only if it's the type of charge you suggested before."

He shook his head. "Only in my dreams."

He stood there hesitantly watching her and then suddenly, taking him by surprise, she flew up from the bed, casting the covers aside and threw her arms around him. He caught her, hugged her close and kissed her again, savouring the final moment that would have to last him quite a while.

"See you soon."

He tore himself away and headed for the door without looking back but with the image of her standing, naked, in the middle of the bed, very firmly implanted in his mind. He closed the bedroom door behind him and stepped out into the hall unable to stop smiling and took a couple of deep breaths to steady himself before turning to his right and heading for his room.

"Good morning, Charles."

Charles turned around to see his father standing at the end of the landing. He was stationary and Charles was in no doubt that he must have seen him emerging from Molly's room. However, he had no intention of being embarrassed or making any apologies.

"Morning, Dad." He strolled casually towards his father. "You're up early."

"So are you," his father remarked drily.

Charles heard the hint of disapproval in his voice and stopped in front of him. "I hope you're not going to give me a lecture, Dad."

The General looked him in the eye. "You're a man, Charles. I trust you know what you're about."

Charles nodded. "I do."

They stood in silence for a few moments. The General seemed to be weighing up his words but thought better of a response and instead nodded in the direction of the stairs, "You'd better bring your bags down. I'll ferry you over." He turned away and headed down the stairs. Charles stared after him. He'd forgotten that he'd asked his father yesterday morning before they left for Porthcurno to ferry him over to Woodston early to pick up the car. No doubt he'd come looking for Charles in his room this morning and had found it empty and his bed obviously not slept in. It didn't bother him that his father had caught him sneaking around but he sensed that Molly might be embarrassed to think his father knew about them sleeping together. He resolved to spare her blushes and not tell her and was confident that his father was unlikely to mention it either. In any case, Charles was leaving today and wouldn't be able to return for a while so the issue was unlikely to come up anytime soon.

Molly pulled the curtains back a fraction and peered out of the window. She saw Charles heading down the track to the beach. She willed him to turn around and look for her but he carried on without a backward glance. She was stupidly disappointed until she caught sight of the General at the beach below preparing to get the boat from the boat house and ferry Charles over to Woodston. She shrank away from the window unwilling to be seen and waited until the she heard the outboard motor start before daring to look again. The little boat was heading straight for Woodston harbour with the General at the rear. It was then that she saw Charles turn his head and gaze back towards Abbey House. She raised her hand and waved, hoping he would see but not expecting a response. He looked her way for a long while and she was sure he must have seen her. When he turned back towards Woodston she moved away and sat on the bed. It was going to be difficult here without him but she cheered herself with the thought that he would call her and perhaps they would be able to meet again soon, somewhere far away from here.

The General steered the boat towards Woodston conscious that his son was looking back towards Northanger with an expression on his face that his late wife, had she been here to see it, would no doubt have called wistful. He remembered Sylvie's words many years ago when they had argued about the best way to bring up their children. "Charles isn't like Harry and he never will be. Charles is deep." The General gazed at his son and wondered just how deep his feelings ran for Molly. It made him uneasy. He sensed that Molly was unpredictable and the last thing the General wanted was anyone upsetting the status quo. It was probably a very good thing that Charles' leave had ended because in his experience there was nothing like a degree of separation to bring someone to their senses and from where he was sitting it looked as though that was exactly what Charles needed.


	17. Chapter 17

**_Thank you for all the reviews and comments on Chapter Sixteen. I'm Sorry that it's taken a while to update. I've struggled a bit to write something I'm happy with but I think I've got there in the end although it's a long one! So, Charles had returned to the army after his leave and Molly and Emma are once again on Northanger with only the General for company…_**

 **Chapter Seventeen**

"I have to return to Bath today and I expect I'll be away for a few days."

This unexpected announcement by the General caused Molly to look up from her breakfast. The expression on Emma's face was easy to read; relief.

"Something important?"

The tone of Emma's enquiry held just the right degree of innocence not to arouse the General's interest.

"Some business matters." He turned his attention back to his breakfast and the copy of 'The Guardian' lying on the table and offered no further explanation.

Emma caught Molly's eye and the corners of her mouth twitched as she tried to suppress a smile. It was no use trying to pretend that her father being away wasn't anything but welcome news. With Charles' leave having ended three days ago, the girls had been unable to easily travel further afield as they had done while Charles was here. Neither of them could drive and public transport was limited to one bus travelling west towards Penzance or east towards Truro. They both missed Charles' presence. For Molly it was with the natural sense of emptiness that anyone would feel on being parted from someone they loved. For Emma as much as she loved her brother's company, she knew that he had also been very good at taking the heat out of some of the General's testier moments and there were times when she was finding it hard to remain calm when her father expressed his annoyance at what seemed fairly trivial matters.

The General certainly seemed to have been irritable since Charles had departed and Molly supposed that he also preferred the company of his son. She had noticed that he seemed a little brusque with her at times. His greeting at breakfast this morning had been short, little more than a nod in her direction before he turned to his newspaper but she tried to tell herself she was reading too much into his manner. He hadn't really behaved any differently since they had arrived at Northanger, although in the beginning he had made more of an effort to be polite. She supposed he was now so used to her being there that he was treating her like Emma. So now, like his daughter, she found the prospect of him being absent for a few days very welcome.

Charles had called Molly a couple of times each day since he left. Sometimes it was early morning and she could hear the amusement in his voice at the sound of her sleepy voice as she answered.

"Do you think this is a decent time to call?" she had groaned the first time, glancing at the clock and seeing it was only six thirty.

"Perhaps indecent would be a better description." He sounded annoyingly bright and awake to Molly's ears.

"Of the time or me?"

She heard a deep chuckle on the line. "Stop, it Molly I'm due on duty very soon."

"You started it."

He heard her giggling at the other end and sighed deeply. "What I wouldn't give to be there right now."

"Wish you were." It was hard to hide the longing in her voice and he heard it.

"Sorry. Queen and Country and all that."

Once Charles had called her in the middle of the day when she'd been about to sit down to lunch in the presence of the General and much to the General's great displeasure she had excused herself with a hasty, "I'm sorry I really have to take this," and rushed out of the room only to whisper fiercely to Charles, "You've just got me into so much trouble with your Dad."

"Sorry, forgot it was lunch time. I was just feeling a bit despondent after watching Two Section balls up a manoeuvre for the third time in a row. I'm really not looking forward to the weekend. The Colonel's expecting a good show and it might gonna take a miracle."

Molly laughed. "It's working isn't it?"

"What is?"

"You just said 'might gonna' so it proves my charm and magnetism is working on you."

"Yeah, Molly, it's working on me alright."

The dining room door had opened and Emma's anxious face had appeared. It was obvious to Molly that she had been sent at the General's insistence to round her up.

"I've gotta go. Sorry, your Dad's waiting. Keep it up, Charles."

"What?" she heard the mixture of wariness and amusement in his voice.

"Your chin, of course!"

He couldn't see her face but he didn't need to in order to know it was overspread with a cheeky grin.

It was the late night calls that Molly liked best. She could lie in bed talking to Charles as if he was right next to her and she tried to imagine him lying on the bed in his room in barracks. Last night as they had talked just before Molly went to sleep Charles had described his room to her which hadn't given her a good impression. It sounded bare and austere and she couldn't imagine why he chose to be there.

"Can't you live in your own place?"

"I could but there's not much point in getting my own flat when home's so close by." Charles said.

"Not even if you have visitors or something?"

Molly was vague but Charles knew where she was coming from and that the 'something' was really a reference to herself. In the few days he'd been back, he'd already formed the conclusion that he would prefer a place of his own away from Bath, somewhere that Molly could come and stay with him away from his father's prying eyes and disturbing manner. The only reason he'd returned to Bath so often had been to give Emma support. If he had a place big enough, there was no reason why Emma shouldn't spend time there too. He knew that even though everything had happened so quickly with Molly, his life was starting to change but he welcomed and embraced it because he was knew he was ready for the change.

"Perhaps I could get my own place but we'll see."

It hadn't been the response Molly was hoping for but she knew it would be stupid to go on about it. He'd only think she was needy and awkward and she didn't intend to say or do anything to jeopardise their relationship. They had almost ruined things once already.

Charles told her about his day, as much as he was able, and she recounted the few details of her day that she thought might interest him.

"Joe Spargo said Hannah's been offered the Assistant Manager job at The Ship. Apparently they're impressed with her management skills."

"Hmm," Charles replied, "That sounds about right. She's always been very good at getting people to dance to her tune."

It was a mildly sarcastic comment and Molly hoped that he'd got everything to do with Hannah out of his system which he seemed to swiftly confirm.

"Never mind Hannah, what are you and Emma managing to do with yourselves now?"

Molly rolled her eyes and tried to rack her brains for something interesting to say but failed.

"It's pretty shit here, to be honest, now you're gone. Sorry, but I guess Emma would say the same, although she'd be more polite. What we really need is a girl's night out but I don't think your dad would be impressed."

Charles chuckled, "No, I can imagine the look on his face if you two rolled in drunk at four in the morning."

"Would I do that?" Molly pretended to sound offended.

"Let me see," there was an intake of breath as if Charles was pretending to consider this seriously. "Well, it might not have been four in the morning but you certainly aren't above rolling in drunk."

"That wasn't the same."

"No sorry, of course, it was a ploy to get me into your bedroom."

"It was not!" Molly laughed and then remembering it was late, dropped her voice. "It worked though."

"Incorrigible must be your middle name."

"Nah," Molly giggled. "My Dad couldn't spell it!"

As Molly gazed at her friend across the breakfast table in the wake of the General's announcement, her thoughts from last night came back to her and as soon as breakfast was finished and he had gone to sort out details for his departure Molly turned to her friend.

"What do you say to night out in Penzance or something?"

Emma stared at her. "When?"

"Tonight?"

She paused to think about it.

"It might be difficult with the tides although I think low tide tonight is quite late so I suppose if we went out after Dad's gone we could stay out late in Penzance and then get a taxi back and it shouldn't be a problem."

"So, is it a plan?"

Emma gazed at her friend and Molly saw a twinkle in her eye and a hint of rebellion about her.

"Okay. It's a plan."

X-X-X-X

It was a quiet night in the bar and Molly reflected that they had probably been getting their hopes up expecting to find fun and entertainment on a Tuesday night out of the high season. It was nine o'clock and still light outside although it was dark in the bar and the music was quite loud making it difficult to talk. Only a few regulars seemed to be sitting around on stools chatting to the barmaid although once or twice a young man at the bar sporting a close-cropped haircut, tight fitting white shirt and a full arm tattoo had thrown a look in their direction and seemed to be weighing up whether to risk wandering over to chat to them. The thought of being approached hadn't even crossed Molly's mind when they had gone out.

Molly and Emma had waited for the General to leave for Bath at low tide just before lunch and then as soon as the car was out of sight had hurried away to change and prepare to go out. They had caught the bus into Penzance, grabbed a late lunch, done some window shopping and taken in a late afternoon film at the cinema before heading into town for a few drinks and whatever fun could be found.

The man at the bar looked as though he had finally plucked up the courage after a few more glances in their direction to saunter across to the table at which the girls were sitting. Molly clocked him out of the corner of her eye and whispered to Emma, "Watch out, looks like we've got company whether we want it or not."

The man had reached their table. He was surprisingly short having stepped down from the bar stool, and his youthful, round, flushed face and broad grin gave him the appearance of a tattooed choir boy.

"Can I buy you ladies a drink?"

Emma looked slightly anxious and Molly took over, "No thanks mate. We've got one."

"Well, what about some company then? My friend's meeting me here in a minute. We could have a few drinks and a laugh, if you're up for it."

At that moment he waved his hand and called loudly across the bar, "Mac, over here."

Molly caught sight of a fair-haired young man who had just entered the bar. He was taller than 'choir boy' but apart from that he seemed to be wearing the same uniform of short sleeved shirt and jeans and was if anything sporting more tattoos including one that extended half-way up his neck giving the appearance of him wearing a green polo neck under his shirt.

"Alright, Rob."

Molly saw him wink at his friend and look pleased with the company he had lined up for him.

"This is Mac and I'm Rob."

Rob looked expectantly at Emma and Molly but Molly simply returned his look. "That's nice for you. Sorry, but we just want a quiet chat."

It wasn't exactly true but neither she nor Emma wanted the company of these two men.

"I couldn't hear you, the music's too loud." Rob leaned over Molly appearing to move his ear nearer to her but she realised almost immediately that he was using it as an excuse to stare down her cleavage. Mac, meanwhile had turned his attention to Emma and his back towards his friend, insisting quite loudly that Emma must want a drink and it would be rude to refuse. Emma was shaking her head and trying to lean away from him. Molly lost her patience and stood up.

"Look, we were just leaving, sorry."

Emma took the hint and stood up too and the girls pushed past the two men towards the exit. However, they hadn't counted on the persistence of Rob and Mac who followed them to the door still making suggestions for an evening out. As they reached it they had to stand to one side to admit someone coming through and with a start Molly recognised the woman entering the bar.

"Hannah?" Emma was evidently as surprised as Molly had been to see her here.

Hannah took in the sight of Emma, Molly and the two men coming out the other way and was clearly very surprised.

"Friend of yours?" Rob asked Molly, as if it was any of his business. An irritated frown creased Hannah's brow and she ignored eye contact with him in the just the same way she pointedly ignored Molly.

"She's welcome to join us, more the merrier," Rob continued and Molly couldn't help thinking he must have been first in the queue when thick skins were handed out.

"Hello, Emma," Hannah said ignoring Rob's remark. "Having an evening out?"

Emma nodded. "That's right, what about you?"

"Just meeting a friend. I won't keep you. I can see you're busy." She flashed her eyes in the direction of Rob and Mac and then walked away without another word apart from a glance back over her shoulder at the group of four before disappearing into the far corner of the bar. As she was about to sit down Molly saw the dark-haired head of a man appear and was sure he had just kissed Hannah on the cheek although Hannah appeared to have turned her head away in an effort to avoid it. Emma glanced at Molly and Molly shrugged in response. She really didn't care what Hannah did or who she was meeting particularly as right now she and Emma seemed to have acquired a couple of unwelcome hangers-on.

Molly grabbed Emma by the elbow and guided her outside. They stepped onto the pavement and to their annoyance Rob and Mac followed and still seemed to think that they could charm the girls into making a night of it. Molly had had enough. She hadn't wanted to be deliberately rude but it was clear that these two jokers didn't understand anything but plain English; very plain English.

"We don't want a drink and we don't want company so why don't you both just piss off and find someone else to annoy."

Rob heard that alright and stepped back with his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. "Okay, okay." He tapped his mate on the arm and nodded in the direction of another bar down the street. Mac looked disappointed but reluctantly moved away as well. He said something under his breath to Rob and they both laughed in a laddish way that irritated Molly, as she could imagine it was probably some derogatory comment about them. They headed down the road, no doubt looking for their next targets and Molly glanced at Emma and thought she could see the hint of amusement in her eyes. Then she confirmed it by giggling.

"What would I do without you saving the day for me every time I go into a bar?"

Molly shrugged, "They were harmless really but I just can't be bothered with any of that. I think what I said before was true and I do just want a quiet drink. What about you?"

Emma nodded. "There's plenty of wine at Abbey House and there's a good selection of films. What do you say to another of my favourites?"

It sounded more appealing than this to Molly's ears and it surprised her. Not that long ago a night out on the town drinking and getting chatted up would have been her idea of a good time but everything was different now because of Charles and she realised that this was not really fun for Emma either. Neither of them was in the market for being chatted up anymore.

"Alright," Molly said. "As long as the film's not another of those bloody ancient black and white things. You have no idea how much trouble they almost caused."

X-X-X-X

"Are you any good at picking locks?" Emma glanced at Molly who was sitting curled up in the armchair in the lounge at Abbey House.

"What d'you think I am a jewel thief?" Molly giggled making reference to the film they had just watched.

"Just wondered," Emma said vaguely. "Because if you were I'd get you to open Dad's study so we could get the key out of his desk for Mum's studio."

Molly couldn't help thinking that Emma was half-serious but she brushed it aside.

"Not one of my talents I'm afraid. You need a professional like that John Robie bloke."

The film had ended an hour ago. Whilst it had been another old Hitchcock favourite of Emma's it hadn't had quite the same dark overtones as her last offering and Molly found _To Catch a Thief_ more entertaining than thrilling.

"They don't make them like that anymore," Emma sighed wistfully.

"The film or the actor?" Molly asked with a smile thinking of the rather debonair old Hollywood star in the lead role.

"Both. I mean you don't find a lot of 'gentlemen' like Cary Grant out there do you?"

Molly frowned. "What about Francois or Charles? Charles is always telling me he's an officer _and_ a gentleman."

Emma giggled and fell back on the sofa and Molly realised for the first time that thanks to the bottle of wine they had almost finished between them Emma was more than a little bit tipsy.

"I know he's my brother and I love him but I don't know about that," she said doubtfully before, struggling to contain her composure, she continued, "Unless you mean he can say 'fuck off' in an upper class accent." She dissolved into fits of laughter and Molly stared at her in genuine amazement. She had never heard Emma swear before and never seen her so relaxed. Emma stopped laughing at her own joke and then leaned towards Molly in a conspiratorial manner and said, "Have you noticed that Charles talks in his sleep?" She started to giggle again and Molly stared at her not really knowing how to respond until Emma caught the expression on her face and said, "We all used to go camping with Dad years ago and I could always hear Charles having a conversation with himself."

Molly still stared at her not knowing whether she wanted to discuss Charles' sleeping habits with his sister not that she had noticed him talking. It was a bit odd but Emma said, "Oh, I didn't mean to sound nosy, I just thought it would be funny if you'd heard it too."

Molly smiled. "No, I haven't."

Emma gazed at her. "I know you probably think I'm pretty innocent because of everything that happened after Mum died and how Dad treats me but I'm not really _that_ innocent if you know what I mean."

Molly heard the inflection in her voice and understood what she meant. Clearly the relationship between herself and Francois was reasonably advanced despite all the difficulties that seemed to be in its way.

"You and Francois are very close then?" Molly ventured.

Emma looked serious. "Yes, it's just that Dad doesn't like him because…" she took a deep breath, "he's married."

Molly tried to hide her feelings but she was shocked. She'd hadn't imagined that Emma was involved with a married man and as much as she wanted her friend to be happy it put everything into a different perspective.

"I see," she said rather lamely lost for anything else to say.

"Well, you probably don't. I know how it looks but he married very young because his wife was expecting a baby, his son, but that's the sort of man he is. He takes responsibility seriously. The problem is he never really loved her and they separated last year and that's when I met him on the painting course. He's a good artist but he wants to be an architect and he decided to study in Bath so he could be near me." She looked Molly in the eye. "It was fate that we met on that course. He's older than me, of course, but not that much older, no more than you and Charles. The problem is Dad thinks he's awful because he's left his wife, has a child and that he's only interested in me because of the money. It doesn't matter how many times I told him that he didn't even know about the money when we met. We'd fallen in love long before he even knew about it. Dad made enquiries about him and went mad and did everything possible to keep us apart. He thinks he succeeded because I'm here alone. If he knew that Francois was in Bath or that we still see each other I don't know what he'd do. "

The confession from Emma had given Molly a lot to think about. It explained so much that she hadn't previously understood. Strangely, for the first time she felt just a small degree of sympathy with the General. No matter what Emma said, she could see how it would look to a parent particularly given the fragile state of Emma's mental health in recent years. However, she recalled how supportive Charles was of his sister. She trusted Charles' completely. He'd said that he disagreed with his father's opinion of Francois which made her believe that it wasn't the way it would look to the rest of the world.

"So Francois has gone back to France to see his son?"

Emma nodded. "Yes and he's arranging his divorce. Hopefully, by the end of the summer it will be finalised and then perhaps we can start to move forward although I don't think my father will like him any more for it but it won't matter when I've got my independence. I'm just going to focus on that. I'm sure it's what Mum wanted for me. She certainly never let anything stand between her and what she wanted. I even heard Dad say that once, so he shouldn't really be surprised if I'm like her, should he? Like mother, like daughter."

Emma reached for the bottle of wine on the table and lifting it discovered it was empty.

"Shall we get another?"

Molly felt a strange sense of responsibility for Emma even though they were the same age and although realising she would probably sound like her mother asked, "Do you think that's a good idea?"

"Definitely. I don't think I've ever felt as good as I do right now."

X-X-X-X

Emma didn't feel quite so good in the morning. She and Molly had both drunk a glass more and then Emma had suddenly declared herself, "Very tired," and decided to go to bed. Whilst it would be wrong to describe her as having a hangover, Molly could tell that she was definitely below par and lacking in energy. She had eaten some breakfast and then flopped around, still in her nightclothes in the lounge, behaviour that would be impossible if her father was here and said she was going to take it easy if Molly didn't mind. Molly raised no objections. She had a slight headache herself and after finishing breakfast decided to take a leaf from Charles' book and get some fresh air by taking a walk around the island to the Observation Post.

The wind on the cliff top was strong and fresh and it revived her, blowing away the cobwebs of last night. Seeing the Observation Post again reminded her of the day she had first walked here with Charles. Today the sea looked grey and choppy and she shivered in the wind but she didn't go into the building, remembering its rather dark and dank interior. Today it amused her to think that she was the one standing here thinking of her loved one far away even if it was only in Warminster. It might as well have been thousands of miles away for all the difficulties of being stuck here without him. She didn't like to call him because she had no idea of his duty hours and she didn't want him to think she was clingy but she couldn't resist a short text.

 _Keeping Tom Parsons and Betty Watkins company this morning. Know how they feel. M x_

She turned back along the narrow cliff path, blown back towards Abbey House by the wind and had just stepped down into the lee of the hill when the message alert on her phone beeped. She read the response and smiled.

 _Ditto. x_

As Molly reached Abbey House, the sun was fighting its way out from behind the clouds and the tide had receded enough to uncover the causeway. Molly glanced through the lounge window and saw Emma fast asleep on the sofa. She smiled at the sight and determined to leave her in peace not wishing to disturb her rest. Instead she decided to walk over to Woodston and for no other reason than she was bored she went into the General Store and bought some magazines and chocolate before returning to the harbour. The weather was improving all the time and Molly sat down on a bench near Penrose Pottery to rest in the sun for a while and flick through the magazines before walking back to Abbey House for lunch.

Nat Mortimer strolled out of the Pottery into the sunshine wiping his hands on his apron accompanied by an elderly man dressed in pale coloured casuals. The baseball cap on his head declaring he was a fan of the Giants and the few words which carried on the breeze in Molly's direction confirmed her suspicions that he was an American. Nat and the man chatted for a further few minutes before the elderly man shook hands with Nat and strolled away in the direction of the car park. Nat was staring after him, a frown on his face as if bemused by something. He caught sight of Molly and walked over to her.

Molly, recalling the trouble that listening to Nat Mortimer's opinions had caused her recently, couldn't help being a little wary. She understood that Nat and the General were not friendly for a variety of reasons but she also reasoned that it didn't mean that they couldn't pass the time of day.

"How are you, Molly?"

"Good thanks. How about you?"

Nat took a deep breath and exhaled slowly gazing into the distance. "As a matter of fact I'm a little perplexed at this moment in time."

Molly waited to see if he would elaborate and wasn't disappointed.

"You see that chap over there." He pointed towards the elderly man in the distance. "Well, he's just told me something rather curious about Sylvie James."

Molly couldn't help but look up in surprise. He had her attention.

"He told me that about ten years ago he came over here on holiday and visited the Pottery and Studio and that he bought one of Sylvie's paintings as a memento. Nothing odd in that. We used to have plenty of overseas visitors and Sylvie's work was popular. Well, it seems as though he thought he'd make a return visit as he and his wife are over here for a few weeks." He paused and Molly wondered where this was going

"He was obviously very sad to hear that Sylvie had passed away and really disappointed to discover that the Studio was no longer here as he'd made the trip to Cornwall solely for this purpose. But then he told me something very strange. He said he'd bought one of Sylvie's paintings last year over in the States."

Molly didn't see the significance as it struck her that people sold paintings abroad all the time.

"Why's that strange. I suppose Sylvie sold her paintings all over the place didn't she?"

Nat shook his head. "No, not after she married and set the Studio up. She had a very personal relationship with her work and she wasn't happy about how some of the sales were handled by agents in the past so she sold all her work directly. She liked to meet buyers, talk to them, hear their stories and share her own. She wasn't commercially minded. Actually, I don't think she was interested in making lots of money at all. She often said that she'd rather keep everything than sell it to nameless, faceless strangers."

"So, this painting is an old one that she'd sold years ago, then?"

"No, that's just it," Nat said slowly. "This one had never been on the market before and was offered by an art dealer in New York. He said it was entitled 'The cove at Porthcurno'."

Molly knew immediately which painting he must be referring to. She tried to get her thoughts in order. This was the painting that Emma had wanted to see. It was one of the reasons Emma had taken Molly to Porthcurno last week. It was one of the paintings stored away in Sylvie's studio in Abbey House. The only problem in all this was that Molly knew that the Studio was empty and the General had been very unhappy at finding her there. Nat must have seen a look cross her face.

"What is it?"

Molly shook her head, wondering how to hide her suspicions. "Nothing."

Nat stared at her. "You're not very good at this are you, Molly?"

She shook her head. "What d'you mean?"

"Hiding the fact that you obviously know something."

Molly sighed. It was disappointing that people seemed to be able to see through her all the time. "I don't know anything apart from the fact that there aren't any paintings stored at Abbey House as far I can tell. I found the studio empty a little while ago, quite by accident. But you musn't say anything to Emma about it, she doesn't know I went in there and I think it would upset her." She didn't add that she'd already upset the General.

Nat nodded reassuringly. "Don't worry. I promise I won't say anything to Emma about it."

X-X-X-X

Molly sighed as she lay in the darkness of her room. "It's going to be a long weekend."

"Try being here," Charles said. "Four days on exercise in the Brecon Beacons and no chance of even talking to you to keep my mind off things. That bunch of cockwombles won't know what's hit them this weekend if they put a foot wrong."

Charles sounded terse and to Molly's mind pissed off by the prospect of what was to follow. He had called late on Thursday evening as he had promised, advising her that they were now at base camp ready for a five am start the following morning.

"At least you'll be busy," Molly said, "Even if it is shouting at squaddies which is more than I'll be. Although, no offence Charles, but it's been a bit more relaxed here since your Dad's been away so it's not so bad."

"None taken. I've had a lifetime to know exactly what you mean." There was a pause and then he added, "If I haven't told you this before, then I'll say it now. It's been wonderful of you to stay with Emma this summer. She's really coming out of herself and she looks happier than she has for years and you've been a big part of that."

In spite of being alone, Molly almost blushed at the praise from Charles.

"Well, maybe having someone special in her life makes a big difference too. She told me all about Francois the other night so I know why your Dad isn't keen on him."

"I see."

"I guess he's quite a bloke." Molly wondered what Charles was thinking as he hadn't responded to her previous comment.

"He is," Charles confirmed. "And Dad's got him all wrong. He just can't see beyond his personal circumstances but he's a good man. I trust he'll do the right thing by Emma"

Molly didn't mention the subject of the money and Charles didn't say anything either. She knew the family finances weren't really her business and raising it might make him feel awkward.

"So, are there any family secrets left that you haven't discovered?"

"Don't tease me," Molly laughed.

"Oh, if only," Charles sighed. "But I'm stuck here and you are well and truly stuck there."

"Looks like I'll just have to keep busy too, then" Molly said.

"Well promise me you won't get up to any mischief."

"Will scouts' honour do?"

Charles laughed, "Coming from someone who was rejected by the Brownies, I'm not sure I should accept that."

"How about a promise from someone who loves you then?"

She heard the smile in his voice. "That'll do every time."

X-X-X-X

The weather stayed fair and sunny on Friday although the forecast had mentioned a change over the weekend and Molly and Emma decided that given the possibility of being stuck inside if it rained as threatened that they should make the most of the sunshine and venture down the coast for a change of scene. Emma remembered Ben from 'The Ship' talking about surfing at Praa sands and although neither she nor Molly had any inclination to try it, on a day like today the thought of watching the waves roll in on a long sweeping beach was appealing. They made themselves a picnic, gathered their beach bags together and set out early to catch the bus down the coast.

The beach was busier than the girls had expected with a mix of families and a surfing contingent keen to make the most of the waves as even though it was warm and sunny there was still a stiff breeze blowing in from the sea particularly on such a long exposed section of beach. Molly and Emma lazed around on their beach towels and Emma even took a dip in the sea. Molly couldn't be persuaded. Her memories of the water at Porthcurno were enough to put her off the idea, particularly on such a windy day. When Emma returned after ten minutes or so, Molly could see the goose bumps on her arms and the hasty manner in which she reached for the towel and wrapped it around her convinced Molly she'd made the right decision.

Later that afternoon they sat at the beach café enjoying a Cornish cream tea and Molly laughed as the clotted cream piled on the scone got stuck on the end of her nose. She wiped it away.

"God, I bet my nose is burnt. I'll look like a beacon by this evening."

Emma stared at her face. "You look like you've been outside, alright."

"Windburn's what my Mum calls it."

"So did mine!" Emma smiled. "What's your Mum like, Molly? You've never said much about her."

"Well, I didn't like to go on, if you know what I mean."

Emma nodded. "I do, but I don't mind."

Molly looked up trying to think of a few appropriate words to describe Belinda.

"She's warm-hearted and she wants the best for us but she's run off her feet most of the time with all the little ones and my Dad's pretty useless and doesn't help around the place. I sometimes wonder what she would have done if she hadn't got so bogged down by having all of us."

"Maybe, having all of you was what she wanted."

Molly had never really thought much beyond the day to day situation at home; her mother looking and sounding harassed, the arguments with her Dad over all manner of trivial matters and the sense that her mother's own life was slipping away in a haze of domestic trials and tribulations.

"I dunno. I think life just sort of happened to her. I'm not sure anyone would plan it that way, if you see what I mean."

"Is she happy?" Emma looked serious.

Molly sighed. "Maybe, sometimes, now and then but I don't think I'd be happy like that."

She felt guilty, if she was honest with herself. Here she was having a wonderful time with a friend like Emma and she'd seldom stopped to think of her mother. She knew Belinda wouldn't begrudge her this luck but for a moment she wished some of it would wing her mother's way.

Emma glanced at her watch "I think we'd better head back, so we can walk over to Northanger without any problems. The last thing I want is get wet feet or worse. She grinned at Molly who returned the smile but didn't dare to tell her that she'd already had the misfortune to experience that situation. However, as she rose from her seat to follow Emma she couldn't help smiling to herself a little as well. It had all ended very well, very well indeed.

By the time the girls had crossed the causeway to Northanger, Molly was feeling a tired and her face was feeling warm from too much sun. She was longing for shower to remove all the sand and grit that was in her shoes and wash away the residue of sun cream that was feeling uncomfortably sticky. The final climb up the steep track to Abbey House was a killer on a day like this and they were both relieved to reach the top but as they did so, Molly noticed with a sinking heart that the General's car was parked at the top of the drive. Emma had seen it too.

"Dad's back."

There was no disguising the disappointment in her voice.

When he had left on Tuesday the General hadn't said how long he would be away but Molly and Emma had both gained the impression that it might be for as long as a week. Molly had mentally been preparing for a lazy weekend but that wasn't likely to happen now. The girls walked silently into the house both lost in their own thoughts.

The General was standing in the hall and before him on the floor lay Molly's bag which appeared to be fully packed. The zip was straining and the corner of her favourite emerald green top was poking out where it wasn't completely closed. Molly and Emma stopped short and both stared at the General and the bag in front of him.

"Dad?" Emma couldn't hide the surprise, "What's going on?"

The General pointed to the bag. "You're leaving Miss Dawes, right now. Your bag is packed and if there's anything missing we'll send it on to you."

Molly felt as if the earth was disappearing from beneath her feet. She was shocked and taken aback, Emma even more so.

"Why?... I mean…what have I done?"

Emma came to her senses and joined with her. "You can't, Dad. Why are you saying this?"

The General rounded on his daughter "Why? I'll tell you why." He turned to face Molly his face stern and set. "I told you when I invited you here as a guest of this family that the two qualities that mattered to me most are honesty and decency. Well, it's to my great disappointment that I've discovered that you possess neither. You are not the sort of person with whom I wish my daughter to be associated. Please take your bag and leave now."

Molly stared at him in horror. Her mind was spinning but it kept coming around to the idea that the General must have found out about herself and Charles. Why else would he talk about decency? He was obviously unhappy that they'd spent time together under his roof. He must have considered it to be dishonest behaviour.

"I'm sorry that Charles and me didn't say anything but we couldn't help it. We just thought it was better to keep it private."

He glared at her. "There's nothing more I wish to say to you Miss Dawes. I've asked you to leave and I won't ask again."

Molly turned to Emma. "I'm so sorry. I'll call you."

"You will not!" the General declared and putting out his hand demanded that Emma give him her phone immediately.

Emma almost gasped, "You can't ask for my phone?"

Her father stood firm and said nothing and then to Molly's shock Emma reached into her bag and handed over her phone with a miserable expression that suggested any new found confidence had just flown out of the window.

"You should leave, Miss Dawes. I believe the bus for Truro comes through in half an hour."

He pointed towards the door and Molly realised that she had no choice. She didn't put it past the General to call the police if she refused to leave.

She walked towards the General and unwillingly stooped and picked up the heavy holdall. As she stood up she caught sight of Emma's expression; misery and confusion. Even in that moment she felt desperately sorry for her friend. As much as it hurt her feelings to be thrown out in such an impromptu manner she at least was able to walk away from the General. Emma would be stuck here alone with him. She tried to give her a reassuring smile but she was fighting the tears and the smile just wouldn't show.

Molly picked up her bag and determined to behave with some dignity and show the General that for all his bad opinion of her she did have some good manners, she looked him in the eye.

"I'm sorry that you obviously think badly of me but I want to say thank you for inviting me here."

She looked at her friend. "Goodbye Emma. I'll miss you."

She turned and walked away as quickly as she could carrying the heavy bag determined to stand up straight and keep her head held high. She walked like this all the way down to the beach not wishing to show any sign of distress to the General but by the time she reached the causeway the tears had begun to flow. She hadn't imagined that the General could be quite so old fashioned and although she was sorry if she'd caused this to happen she still couldn't believe that she had done anything really wrong. She reached into her pocket, pulled out her phone and called Charles' number. It was only when the phone went straight to voicemail that she remembered he was away on a four day exercise. He'd told her that she wouldn't be able to reach him before later on Monday. Her heart sank and more tears fell but she left a brief message, almost obscured by tears.

"Charles, something terrible has happened and your Dad's sent me packing…" she trailed off and ended the call. What was the point? He couldn't do anything about it. She took a deep breath and continued on her way across the causeway until she reached the harbour at Woodston.

As she walked up the slipway she thought of Nat Mortimer. He was the only other person around here with whom she was friendly. She dumped her bag next to a bench and walked round to the Pottery. It was shuttered and closed and she realised it was late and long after business hours. He had gone home and she didn't know where he lived or his telephone number. She sighed and turned back only to encounter the one person she least wished to see at this moment; Hannah.

Hannah emerged from her parents' cottage, looking as though she was heading for work at 'The Ship'. She caught sight of Molly about to pick up her bag from where she had left it and as she drew level asked in an unfriendly tone of voice, "Going somewhere?"

Molly was loathe to show Hannah that she was upset about something but it was difficult for her to hide the puffiness of her eyes and from the way Hannah scanned her face she knew that she had noticed.

"Yes," Molly said trying to sound unconcerned. "I've got to go home for a few days."

"Where's that?" she didn't really sound interested.

"London."

"Have a good trip." She didn't sound like she cared.

Hannah carried on her way apart from one further comment over her shoulder.

"Strange that the General didn't give you a lift to the station. He's usually so particular about these things."

"He's busy," Molly called back suddenly suspicious of the tone of Hannah's comment but still too devastated by what had happened to dwell on it.

"Oh yeah, he's busy alright," she muttered under her breath. "Busy ruining Emma's life and mine _"_

Molly waited for Hannah to disappear from sight before gathering her wits about her and walking up to the High Street. She found the bus stop and reluctantly checked the timetable. The General had, of course, been right. A bus was due along very soon. She pulled her purse out of her bag and checked the contents.

"Shit!"

There was little more than ten pounds lying there. She hastily did a mental calculation of how much was in her bank account and drew the conclusion that even if she could find a cashpoint to get some money she'd be lucky if there was as much as twenty pounds left in it. She'd never earned very much at the Allens' because she had full board and lodging. The little amount she'd had was gone now spent on a variety of odds and ends but she had no choice. She couldn't stay here.

The Truro bus rounded the corner and with a deep sigh and a heavy heart Molly held out her hand and the bus slowed and came to a stop. She climbed on board.

"Single to Truro please."

The driver took several of her precious pounds and she heaved her bag into the luggage rack and sat down heavily on the seat. The door shut and the bus pulled away. As it left Woodston behind she looked to her right and saw Northanger sitting majestically in the bay below. She watched it until the bus climbed the hill and turned the corner in the road and disappeared from sight. So much had happened in the last few weeks. She'd made a great friend and fallen in love with a wonderful man but everything had been ruined and right now she had no idea how she was going to get home.


	18. Chapter 18

**_Thank you for the reviews to Chapter Seventeen. I'm really, really sorry it's taken me so long to update but I've been very short of time for the past week or so and have only been able to write in short snatches._**

 ** _So, moving on with the story - the General has thrown Molly out and she is making the miserable journey away from Northanger into an uncertain future…_**

 **Chapter Eighteen**

Molly nursed the mug of tea in her hands, hunched her shoulders and and sank down in her seat wondering how long she could make the drink last. The café at Exeter Services was almost deserted apart from a lorry driver reading a newspaper in the far corner and a night cleaner mopping the floors. It was three in the morning and Molly had never known time pass quite so slowly.

She had been sitting here for almost four hours with nothing to do but stare out into the blackness, only occasionally punctuated by the headlight beam of a passing car, and wonder at the train of events that had resulted in her ending up here, alone in the middle of the night.

She had reached Exeter thanks to the kindness of Julie, a garrulous delivery driver who had been on her way to back to Devon after dropping off goods in Truro. Having arrived at the Bus Station in Truro, Molly's first thought had been to find a bank and try to get some money out of the cash machine if, hope against hope there was any to be had, before deciding on her next move. She obtained directions from the ticket office at the bus station and set off. The machine, however, had been out of order and in an effort not to cry with frustration, Molly had vented her annoyance in a verbal volley of insults.

"Stupid, fucking machine."

She turned to see a woman in her mid-forties behind her, card in hand, obviously waiting to use the machine.

"Sorry." Despite her misery Molly couldn't help feeling a bit stupid at being caught shouting at an inanimate object. "It's not working."

"Well I guessed that, my love." The woman said with undisguised sarcasm adding, "Do you know if there are any others around here?"

Molly shook her head. "No, I've never been here before and it don't look like I'll be leaving, either, at this rate."

"I'm guessing you're not local," the woman remarked, hearing the unmistakeable cockney accent.

"No, I'm trying to get back to London but.." she held up her card and said no more.

"On holiday down here then?"

Molly nodded. "I was, but, my boyfriend's had to go back the army after his leave and his Dad's …" she trailed off not knowing what to say. How could she describe the General's behaviour to a stranger? Could she tell this woman that he'd thrown her out without giving her a single reason that made sense?

"Well, he's being difficult. I had to go."

She expected the woman to make some vague remark and then sidle off as quickly as possible not wanting to get involved but to her surprise she looked sympathetic.

"Families, who'd have 'em and I speak from experience. So you're heading home are you?"

"Yeah, only…" Molly took a few steps back wondering what on earth to do now. All the way to Truro on the bus she had been wondering whether to call her Mum but she didn't see how it would help. She'd only spoken to her a couple of times since she'd been down in Cornwall and on neither occasion was the conversation very long and it only consisted of a few details about her brothers and sisters and her Dad's latest scheme or dodge or how he was driving her Mum mad. All she risked doing by calling was worrying her when there was nothing she could do and on top of that her phone was very low on charge.

"Look, if it's any help, I could give you a lift as far as Exeter. I'm heading back to South Devon but you should be able to get a train or a bus from there."

Molly was genuinely shocked by the woman's kindness and for a moment wasn't sure how to respond.

"I'm Julie, by the way."

Molly smiled in genuine relief and introduced herself, "Molly. Thanks. I know I was a bit cross just now but I'm not usually like that."

"Don't worry about it. It would have been me if you hadn't got there first."

Julie's van was parked nearby and it wasn't long before they were on their way again. Molly soon realised why Julie had been so generous in offering her a lift. She was very sociable, clearly loved company and chattered almost non-stop for the two and half hours it took to reach Exeter. It was Friday and the traffic was quite heavy and slowed their journey considerably. By the time they were approaching the city, Molly felt as if she knew every member of Julie's family personally and was growing quite weary of the conversation. On the other hand she hadn't needed to say much and Julie had asked her very few questions. It was just as well because at the moment she didn't feel up to talking about what had happened. She simply stared straight ahead of her and tried to cheer herself up by thinking about Charles and telling herself everything would be alright as soon as she could speak to him again. The only sticky point had been the moment when Julie had taken a detour and found a cash machine that was working. Molly had put her card into the machine and received the news she had been dreading; she only had five pounds to her name but with her back turned to Julie, she withdrew the money and pretended that everything was now fine.

As they approached Exeter, Julie asked Molly whether she wanted to be dropped at the bus or train station and Molly was too mortified to admit that both options were pointless given her lack of funds.

"Tell you what, if you drop me at the services on the M5 I can call a friend I know round there. I'm sure they'll pick me up and put me up for the night, seeing as it's late."

Julie swallowed this lie without question and carried on chatting right up until the moment she dropped Molly in the car park. As she drove away and the assault on Molly's ears came to an end she momentarily breathed a sigh of relief before the realisation hit her that she still had to find a way to get back to London and it was now quite late and growing dark.

She wandered into the service buildings clutching the purse in her pocket and wondering how many cups of tea she could afford on the measly few pounds she still possessed and how long it would take her to fathom out a way to get home.

.

X-X-X-X

Three hours into the journey from Exeter to London, Molly began to regret the decision to accept the lift from Chris. It wasn't that he had said anything outright to her but occasional comments about her appearance, sly glances in her direction, the odd wink and remarks such as "I'd dump a boyfriend who left me in the middle of nowhere and find someone older and more reliable," were unsettling her. Once or twice he'd reached across the dashboard for something and his hand had brushed against her thigh. She hadn't said anything and hoped it was a mistake but he hadn't apologised either. He was of stocky build but hadn't yet developed a professional driver's gut. Dressed in a tight white tee shirt he informed her he worked out at the gym but it was hard to tell if the outline of his chest was muscle definition or the beginning of moobs. She tried not to let him see her looking at him but reckoned he was probably old enough to be her Dad. It was his declaration that he needed to pull off the motorway and take a rest break that was worrying her most. When he mentioned it she remarked that Reading services weren't far but he said he knew a nice little quiet spot just off junction ten that was much better. It was at this point that she regretted talking to him at Exeter Services.

He had been sitting in the corner of the deserted cafe reading a paper and eating a bacon sandwich which only confirmed her suspicions that he and the gym were not closely acquainted. It was when he had got up to leave at quarter to four in the morning and passed her table that he had remarked, "Your tea must be cold by now, love."

Molly glanced up. She was surprised that he had spoken to her. He was smiling.

"You've been holding the same mug for over an hour. What are you doing here at this time of night?"

"Morning 'aint it?"

"Yeah, if you want to split hairs, but I'm still wondering what a girl like you is doing here on her own. You waiting for someone?"

Molly was wary but, nevertheless, growing increasingly desperate as she couldn't work out what on earth she was going to do. She wished more than anything she'd had the guts to tell Julie the truth about the situation. It had been stupid to pretend everything was alright when it wasn't. She was stuck in a service station in the middle of the night with virtually no money and no way out of here.

She made up an excuse.

"My boyfriend was supposed to pick me up but he didn't show."

"Well, I'd have something to say about it, if I were you."

"My phone's died," she said.

"Where were you heading?" The man sounded sympathetic.

"London." She didn't look at him and assumed he'd disappear soon enough.

"I've got a load to deliver near Heathrow. That any good to you?"

He looked like a regular bloke. He was well past youth but hadn't reached middle age and he sounded genuine. She knew it wasn't sensible to accept a lift from a stranger but she really had no choice other than walking back to London like Dick bloody Whittington. It had worked out alright with Julie and there was a good chance it would be fine this time too. Her Nan was always saying there were too many suspicious people in the world.

She nodded. "Alright, thanks."

Chris, as he introduced himself, was a delivery driver for a building supplies company and his lorry when they reached it was loaded with pallets of paving stones which he said he was delivering to a builders merchant in West London. He talked for at least fifteen minutes after they first set out about journeys he made all over the country and the shocking state of traffic. As he wittered on Molly began to relax. No one this boring could possibly be a threat. Nevertheless, she was grateful that he had taken pity on her so she nodded and passed comments from time to time just to let him think she was listening but in truth her mind was elsewhere and weariness was starting to catch up with her. She hadn't slept for almost twenty four hours and the cab of the lorry was warm.

She realised she must have nodded off because by the time she opened her eyes again it was light and she could see motorway signs for Swindon. They must have left the West Country far behind and she thought fleetingly of Bath and was overcome with a feeling of melancholy. The job in Bath at the Allens had been the start of all this. Her mind wandered back to everything that had happened there. She thought of the unexpected joy of making a really good friend in Emma and felt sad for her, realising how lonely she would be again on Northanger with only an unreasonable father for company. She even recalled the Allens with more affection than she had thought possible when she had first arrived to work for them. Looking back she knew they had been kind to her and it hadn't been a bad job although right now she really wished it had paid more so that she hadn't ended up in this predicament. Most of all, of course, she thought of Charles: the first time she had met him at the Assembly rooms, how handsome he had looked in his uniform and how he had made her laugh with his funny remarks. She thought of how nervous she had been meeting him in the coffee shop, the heart-fluttering moment he had taken her hand at the party and asked to dance with her, the lovely lunch by the river in Bath with him and Emma and then, of course, the last happy week they had spent together on Northanger. She felt close to tears at the memory, wondering if there was any hope for the future. What if the General and his disapproval of her changed Charles mind? They'd been apart for over a week and it looked as if this was how it might always be if they survived this upheaval. All she could do was hope that Charles wouldn't be swayed by his father's opinion. She knew the type of man she thought he was she just prayed that she was right.

It was after she'd woken up from her nap and was starting to think positively of getting back to London and getting things sorted out that Chris had made the first mention of pulling off the road for a while.

"We've got to take rest breaks. It's the law. Can't have me falling asleep at the wheel, can we. Don't mind do you?"

"No 'course not." She smiled at him and thought she wouldn't mind half an hour or so in different company. It was after they'd driven past the exit for Reading Services and Molly had asked where he was going that he had mentioned knowing somewhere better. They left the motorway two junctions further on and drove along a main road for half a mile, passing a roadside café on the way before turning onto a minor road and driving for what seemed like another half a mile until Chris pulled over onto a rough piece of land in a leafy lane that was seemingly in the middle of nowhere and turned off the engine. Molly looked around her wondering why he had chosen this spot.

"What's so great about here?"

Chris sat back in his seat and stretched. "I like a bit of peace and quiet." He leaned towards her. "Thought you might too."

She didn't like the way this was going especially when he pulled back the curtain behind him to reveal a sleeping compartment all ready with a sleeping bag laid out.

"I never miss an opportunity to stretch out and take a nap when I need one."

Molly thought she detected the hint of seduction in his voice and had the illogical urge to laugh. It was so stupid but when he reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder she shook herself and said smartly, "Funny, I never miss an opportunity to get some fresh air when I need it." She reached for the cab handle and pushed the door open. She grabbed her bag from the foot well and jumped down, catching her ankle slightly as she reached the floor.

"Ouch!"

She didn't let it stop her and started back up the road in the direction they had come.

Chris climbed out of the cab and ran up behind her, startling her as he caught hold of her arm.

"Where are you going?"

"Where's it look like? Back to the main road."

"Come on," he wheedled. "Get back in where's the harm?"

Molly stared at him in disbelief, "Fuck off."

His grip around her arm tightened.

"Well that's a nice attitude after I gave you a lift up here."

"You didn't mention you'd be charging for it."

She pulled her arm away from him and tried to walk on but he caught up with her again and this time she lost her footing on some gravel, stumbled, dropped her bag and slipped into a small ditch at the side of the road landing onto her knees. Chris headed towards her but she hastily reached around her and found a large stick that had broken off from one of the branches on the trees overhead. She grasped it in both hands and held it out in front of her like a weapon trying to give the impression that she knew what she was doing and would be proficient in its use

"Touch me again and I'll break your arm."

She had startled him this time. She could see he was uncertain and slightly bemused.

"Alright, alright," he stepped away hands in the air in a gesture of surrender, "But you've got it all wrong, you stupid cow. I was only trying to be friendly."

"I can do without friends like you."

"Have it your own way. It's a long walk back to London."

He walked back to the lorry, climbed into the cab, started the engine and promptly drove off leaving Molly standing in the ditch in the middle of nowhere and alone once again. It wasn't a great situation but, given the way Chris had behaved, she knew she preferred her own company.

Molly climbed out of the ditch. Her jeans were a bit wet, her feet were muddy and although her ankle hurt a bit she thought it would be probably be alright to walk on. She looked around her. There were no signs of life anywhere but then she remembered the café they had passed on the main road. It might be worth heading in that direction. If nothing else she still had enough money to get a cup of tea and it was at least closer to the motorway although the thought of trying to hitch a lift from anyone else filled her with anxiety. As she limped down the road carrying her bag she kept replaying the scene in her head. It was no good, as much as she tried to tell herself to forget it, she realised it had shaken her up. Her mind kept asking her what she had done to deserve ending up like this. By the time she reached the café forty minutes later, to her great embarrassment, she found she had become quite tearful. She wiped her face with the sleeve of her coat and took a deep breath hoping she looked alright before pushing open the door.

There were half a dozen people sitting in the café, all lorry and van drivers by the looks of them and Molly quickly scanned the faces to make doubly sure that Chris wasn't in here before going any further. With the coast clear she headed to the counter. A large, dark-haired woman swathed in a white apron was wiping down the counter. She looked up and smiled automatically at Molly although a second later a frown creased her brow.

"A cup of tea, please," Molly whispered.

"Coming up," the woman turned away to fetch a mug and Molly caught sight of her own reflection in a mirror behind the counter. She looked like she had been dragged through a hedge backwards, which she almost had, and glancing down she could see why the woman had looked at her like that given her dirty and dishevelled appearance. The woman placed a steaming white mug of tea on the counter.

"That's one fifty, please."

Molly reached into her coat pocket for her purse. It wasn't there. She hastily rummaged in her other pocket and then in both her jeans' pockets but there was nothing.

"I'm sorry, I can't find my purse." She knelt down and started searching through her bag but there was nothing there either. Then another thought came to her. Her purse had been in the pocket with her phone. They were both missing. They must have fallen out somewhere, maybe in the lorry, or when she had jumped out of the cab or in the ditch. Either way she had neither anymore. The woman looked sceptical and as if she was about to take the mug away. It was the last straw. Molly started to cry. She just couldn't help it. All the frustration and misery she had been holding at bay since the moment the General had told her to leave, burst forth. She stood there at the counter finally beyond embarrassment and cried whilst ineffectually dabbing at her eyes and face with the back of her hand.

The counter at the side lifted and the woman came round to the other side. To Molly's astonishment she felt an arm round her shoulders.

"Don't cry love. It's only a cup of tea." She glanced at Molly wondering what could have sparked such a reaction. "Or is it?"

Molly shook her head and the woman said quietly, "Come through to the back."

The small back room which doubled as an office was stacked with takeaway boxes, large tins of baked beans and cans of vegetable oil. She moved some papers from a chair and sat Molly down at a table, brought through the tea, placed it in front of her and handed her a roll of kitchen paper. Molly sipped the tea, wiped her eyes and said nothing for a few minutes until recovering her composure slightly she felt able to say, "Thanks."

The woman nodded. "Looks like you've had a rough day and it's not even nine o'clock"

"You could say that only it all started last night and it's just got worse."

The woman glanced at the large bag Molly had been carrying. "Are you on the way to or from somewhere?"

"Both, probably."

"Yeah, stupid question, I suppose, but you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do."

Molly drank the tea and started to feel a bit better and the woman went out to serve another customer. She was gone for quite a while, busy sorting out a fried breakfast and chatting pleasantly to the man who had just come in. When she returned she asked, "So, how did you lose your purse?"

"Don't know. It must have fallen out of my pocket. I was in a rush and I fell over and slipped into a ditch." She indicated the dirty patches on her jeans.

"That all?"

Molly shook her head. "I was trying to get away from someone."

"Has someone hurt you?" the woman asked, her face suddenly serious.

"No, nothing like that, really. He was just a dickhead of a lorry driver who thinks he's god's gift to women."

The woman started laughing. "I've got a café full of them out there most weeks, not that it makes it alright."

Molly smiled a little too but now that she'd got over the shock of everything the sense of impending doom was returning. She had now lost the couple of pounds that she had left but even worse she had lost her phone. She didn't even want to think at this moment about the difficulties that would cause her.

"So, do you want to tell me about the rotten time you've had and we'll see if it can beat getting here at five this morning to find the toilets blocked, the kettle broken and worst of all the deep fat fryer out of action. Oh and if we're sharing our stories, I suppose I ought to say, I'm Viv." She smiled at Molly and for the first time Molly felt able to return a proper smile.

"Alright, I'll give you the short version and my name's Molly."

She told her tale and Viv listened without interrupting only remarking at the end.

"That's pretty bad. I guess you win not that's it's much consolation."

The door opened and a large, middle-aged, balding man came into the room and stopped in surprise as he caught sight of Molly sitting at the table talking to Viv.

"Ah, here he is, my knight in shining armour, otherwise known as Kenny."

"Who's this, love?" He nodded at Molly.

"A young lady who doesn't have a husband with a detailed knowledge of plumbing or how deep fat fryers work. Never mind, Molly, I'm willing to lend you my knight to save the day."

The look of confusion on both Molly and Kenny's faces was equally matched.

"Kenny love, do you think you could give Molly a lift to the bus station in Reading? She's got a coach to catch."

Kenny shrugged. "Anything you say, dear."

Viv grinned at Molly. "He likes an easy life."

Molly was about to protest that she couldn't catch a coach when Viv walked into the café opened up the till and took out some notes. She handed the money to Molly.

"That should be enough to get you back to London and back to your Mum and Dad. Can't have you hitching lifts from any more dodgy lorry drivers."

Tears sprang to Molly's eyes. "Thank you. I don't know what to say. I'll send you the money, I promise."

"Just get home safe, that'll be enough."

Kenny picked up Molly's bag and carried it to his car parked outside. Viv watched her leave. She didn't care about the money, not that she was a pushover when it came to sob stories but there was something more to this. She could sense it. She didn't know Molly but she knew someone in trouble when she saw one and if she could do something to brighten her day, the loss of a few pounds from the takings was worth it.

X-X-X-X

Charles wandered through the assembled group of soldiers at the departure point to find a quiet spot out of the wind. The four day exercise in the Brecon Beacons was finally over and they had all returned to the base camp to clean up and grab their remaining kit before catching the coaches back to Warminster. Charles reached into his bag and retrieved his phone. For the past four days they had been living out of Bergens using essential kit only, sleeping outside and had mounted a night assault on a command post. The weather had been kind to them and Charles' fears of wallowing in the mire after a downpour had been unfounded. Thankfully, Two Section had redeemed themselves as well and he'd been given a pat on the back by the Colonel for leading the night assault. Everyone had been in good spirits particularly Private Smith who had constantly reminded everyone that he was practically on home territory and claimed to know the hills like the back of his hand. Charles glanced across the yard and noticed that the lads were in high spirits despite being weary after four hard days. He glanced at his phone and saw one missed call from Molly on Friday. He smiled. She'd probably left him a cheeky little message to cheer him up.

 _"Charles, something terrible has happened and your Dad's sent me packing…"_

The message ended. He stared at the screen wondering if he had heard right then he played the message again. This time he heard something in Molly's voice, a tremble as if she was trying to hold back tears. Without hesitating a moment longer he called her number and waited. There was silence and then an automated voice announced that the number was unavailable. He tried again but the message was repeated. He was beginning to feel anxious now. Something must have happened and Emma would know. He called her. The phone rang several times before diverting to voicemail.

"Emma, it's Charles. Molly left me a message to say Dad's kicked her out and I've tried calling but I can't get hold of her. What's going on? Call me as soon as you get this."

He rang off and shook his head in disbelief. It must just be some sort of storm in a teacup. Surely, his father hadn't thrown Molly out of the house? It would be a bizarre thing to do. Perhaps there had been a row of some kind but surely Molly would have called or sent a message to him if everything was sorted out now. It was pointless but he checked his messages to be sure. There was nothing from Molly. All he had was the one brief voice message. He tried to call her again but there was no connection and a sixth sense told him all wasn't well. In desperation he tried Emma again but reached her voicemail for a second time. He took a deep breath and considered calling his father but at that moment the order was given to climb aboard the coaches as they were ready to depart. As anxious as he was to find out what was happening he had no intention of entertaining the entire coach with his domestic problems. As much as he didn't like it he would have to wait until they reached Warminster to get to the bottom of the matter.

The three hours it had taken to reach base gave Charles far too much time to mull things over. He normally enjoyed these journeys with everyone relaxed and in good spirits. There was no denying the fact that he'd been looking forward to speaking to Molly today. Although the past four days had been intense, there'd still been plenty of moments when she had wandered into his thoughts and he'd missed just speaking to her although the memories of being with her had made him involuntarily smile to himself once or twice prompting a few jokes from the men. By the time he'd reached for his phone to call Molly he'd resolved on getting her to come up to Bath somehow for a few days as soon as possible. Ten days without her had already been too long. It had focused his mind and he'd started to make plans that he wanted to share with her. Now, however, his mind was full of concerns.

Charles knew all too well that his father could be awkward. He held fairly rigid views on some matters although Charles had never thought of him as old fashioned. When it came to his family he was probably at his most unforgiving and if anything had disturbed the balance of that he could be very awkward indeed. As much as Charles knew Molly was cut from a different cloth to his father he'd seen nothing in her behaviour to ever indicate that she would deliberately cause trouble in the family. She'd been wonderful with Emma and shown real sensitivity to her situation and had been respectful at all times to his father. The whole notion that she had caused trouble of some kind seemed ridiculous.

By the time the coach reached Warminster, Charles had resolved on calling his father as soon as he reached the privacy of his own room. He had disembarked from the coach, retrieved his bag and was having a final word with Lieutenant Davis when his phone rang. He excused himself and stepped away pulling it out of his pocket to answer. Seeing it was his sister he said eagerly, "Emma!"

"I'm sorry to disappoint, Charles, but it's your father."

Charles was immediately worried. "Where's Emma?"

"Here on Northanger but she couldn't get to her phone."

Charles was suspicious and concerned. "Why?"

"It's inconvenient at the moment."

Charles knew flannel and delaying tactics when he heard them. "What's going on, Dad?"

"There have been a few changes around here and Miss Dawes has departed."

Charles didn't like his father's choice of words. "What do you mean by _departed_? I got half a message from Molly saying something had happened but I can't reach her and now you're answering Emma's phone. What have you done?"

There was a sharp intake of breath from the General followed by, "I have done what any reasonable person would do when faced with a deceitful, scheming liar living under their roof."

"Are you talking about Molly?" Charles couldn't hide the anger in his voice.

"Well, clearly you recognise the description."

"You're mad!"

"I'll ignore that Charles as my emotions are fully under control and yours are clearly not being governed by your brain."

Charles had sensed on his last morning when he had run into the General outside Molly's room that even though he had said nothing about them being together, he had disapproved. He didn't think his father was a snob but he'd detected a slightly cooling attitude towards Molly over the two weeks of his leave and couldn't help feeling that it had something to do with the building relationship between them. He knew that he ought to call his father out on his accusations regarding Molly but grudgingly had to admit that he was right about one fact; Charles was unlikely to keep his cool and there were still a lot of people milling around. He didn't for one minute believe what the General had said about Molly but realised that clearly something had happened to trigger her departure in a a dramatic fashion.

"Why exactly did you make Molly leave?"

I'm sorry to spoil any illusions you may have, Charles, but information came to light regarding her character and honesty. I don't believe her to be a young woman worthy of association with your sister or if it comes to that, with you."

" _Information_?" Charles was disparaging, "If you mean that she's from the east end of London, hasn't had many advantages in life and has to work for a living, I'm well aware of that."

Charles heard his father sigh in exasperation, "You know that isn't what I mean."

"Well, tell me what you do mean."

There was silence before the General replied. "I can't discuss this over the phone, Charles. I have good reasons for my actions and I suggest that you accept that. It's late. Goodnight."

The General rang off with clearly no intention of talking any further on the subject. Charles stared at the phone in his hand in disbelief. He couldn't believe his father was being so high-handed over this. He'd given him absolutely no explanation except the rather arrogant view that his opinion was enough on the matter. However, Charles had no intention of accepting his father's word. He had just spent four days on exercise and if there was one thing he knew from the success of the night assault he had mounted, it was that surprise was everything.


	19. Chapter 19

**_Thank you all for reading and commenting on the last chapter. I appreciate your continued support for the story._**

 **Chapter Nineteen**

By Tuesday the loss of her phone was driving Molly mad. Even if she could have remembered Charles' number she knew that she wouldn't have been able to speak to him until yesterday at the earliest but the thought of him finishing the exercise in Wales and her being unable to contact him and tell him what had happened was frustrating and annoying her to a level she wouldn't have thought possible. She longed to speak to him and the longer the period of silence between them the more she feared that the comments the General had made about her would filter through to Charles and he might change his mind about her.

Molly had been racking her brains wondering what to do, not that it was easy in the Dawes household to find a quiet moment to hear yourself think. It was chaos here compared to life on Northanger or in Bath and as much as she'd been relieved beyond measure to finally get home on Saturday afternoon and the hug of welcome from her mother had been a moment of comfort that she had long needed, she had soon realised that it was going to be hard to settle here again. She had experienced a different kind of life and glimpsed the possibility of a different future and most of all she had fallen in love with Charles and she couldn't contemplate the idea that everything might have come to an end.

The manner in which she had been summarily thrown out of the house by the General still shocked her several days later. She hadn't told her Mum about it. Belinda had been surprised to see her on Saturday and from the way she had hugged her eldest child on her arrival, Molly could tell she was genuinely delighted to see her. After the awful journey back from Cornwall it brought tears to her eyes which Belinda had seen.

"Oh, don't be daft, Molly. You'll get me bawling 'an all. Why didn't you say you were coming?"

Thankfully Belinda was happy to swallow the story Molly had spun about Emma and her father being invited to stay with family friends and needing to leave at very short notice. With her work in Bath at an end, now that the Allens had gone to the South of France, Molly had told her mother that she had no choice but to come home. Her Dad had been slightly more suspicious of her sudden arrival.

"Thought you were staying all summer with those toffs."

"They're not toffs, Dad, and I never said it was all summer. A few weeks that's all."

"Hmm, if you say so." He still didn't look as though he believed her.

Molly hadn't told her mother the entire truth about how she had made her way home either. Saying that she had come back by coach seemed enough. She was still trying to forget about the journey from Exeter. The incident with Chris, the creepy lorry driver, was still playing on her mind. Perhaps, as he had claimed, she had got it all wrong and overreacted although realising how it might have turned out she didn't regret for a minute jumping out of the cab and running off, especially after having the good fortune to run into Viv. She only regretted the fact that in the process of getting away she had lost her phone. Everything had been stored on that phone and she felt helpless without it. She had no quick or easy way of contacting Charles or Emma and the lack of communication was worrying and distracting her.

By Sunday evening it was also obvious that her Dad thought Molly was in the way in what was an already crowded house and that she was another inconvenient mouth to feed.

"'ere Molly, when you gonna find yourself another cushy number like that job in Bath?"

Everything was up in the air and Molly had no idea what would happen.

"I dunno, Dad. What's it to you?"

"I'm your father I like to know these things," Dave feigned offence at her question but it didn't fool Molly.

"More like, how soon am I gonna be off your hands. Well, sorry, Dad, but jobs like that one with the Allens don't grow on trees." That wasn't what she really meant. Men like Charles didn't walk her way every day and friends like Emma were rare.

"Shouldn't have packed it in then, should you!" Dave could always be relied upon for advice informed by hindsight.

"Well, at least I had one. When was the last time you did an honest day's work?"

Molly heard her mother laughing from the lounge doorway.

"He wouldn't know one if it jumped up and bit him."

"Alright, alright. I don't have to stand in my own home and listen to this." Dave reached for his coat and picking it up from the back of a chair made towards the front door. "I'm going down the Earl of Wakefield."

The front door banged shut and Molly turned to look at her Mother. Belinda looked less amused now that the conversation had ended in the normal manner.

"Off to drink the housekeeping as usual."

"Is he ever gonna change, Mum?"

Belinda wandered around the room idly picking up toys from the floor and trying to straighten things out. Molly knew that Dave's workshy attitude made life hard for her Mum who, despite having borne witness to many of his ill-formed money making schemes, the worst of which had involved a deliberate accident with a nail gun on a building site, still confessed in her soft-hearted moments that she loved 'the daft bugger.'

"Don't mind him, Molly, he's just grumpy. I reckon he'd have swapped places with you like a shot given the chance although, god knows what might have gone missing." She giggled, turned to a pile of laundry and started folding it trying to remove some of the creases with deft finger movements.

"You haven't told me about your job in Bath or your holiday, yet. What was it like?"

Molly could tell Belinda was genuinely interested and she wished she could summon up the energy to talk about it the way most people would after being absent for so long. However, after everything that had happened she felt that she was somewhere between weariness and an aching sense of loss and just didn't know where to begin.

"It was good but busy, you know."

She shrugged and smiled at her Mum hoping it would be enough to satisfy her curiosity whilst her heart whispered, _they were the best weeks of my life._

X-X-X-X

Northanger emerged from the early morning mist that hung around the bay as Charles descended the hill into Woodston. When he had finished the exercise in Wales yesterday, the last thing he had anticipated was driving back to Cornwall in the early hours. Being in the Colonel's good books after the exercise had helped him swing a forty-eight hour pass, citing a family emergency and having checked on the tides he had wasted no time and set out in the early hours to catch the morning low tide. It had felt a little underhand to bend the truth about his family situation but he knew he couldn't sit on his backside in Warminster and do nothing in complete ignorance of what had been going on and most of all where on earth Molly was. He knew that he needed to see his father and have the matter out face to face and he was counting on his father not expecting him at this time of day, if at all.

Charles crossed the causeway to Northanger and drove up the steep track to park outside Abbey House. Getting out he surveyed the place. It was almost half seven and most of the curtains were still drawn. Then he saw Emma's face appear at an upstairs window. He saw both shock and relief in her expression as she waved at him. He raised a hand in acknowledgement and headed into the house. By the time he reached the foot of the stairs Emma was descending them and as she got to the bottom she immediately flung her arms around him and hugged him. He hugged her back, pleased at the welcome but also slightly concerned. He loved his sister and they were close but she wasn't usually this effusive on his returns other than from his tours in Afghanistan which had been understandable given the dangers he had faced.

"I'm so glad you're here, Charles. I just kept hoping you'd come."

She sounded tearful and he released her. Seeing her at arm's length he noticed that she looked pale and there were dark rings under her eyes.

"What's up Em? Where's Molly and why has Dad got your phone?"

She was about to answer when the stairs above creaked and they both looked up knowing who would be standing there. The General had heard the car arrive and washed, shaven and dressed, he slowly descended to the hall and took in the sight of his two children gazing at him, one with anxiety written all over her face the other with a determined look that he recognised too well.

"Morning Charles. On leave again, so soon?"

"You left me little option after that conversation or should I say, lack of it, last night."

The General gave him a searching look and Charles could imagine him thinking the matter hardly merited rushing down here at the crack of dawn.

"Let's not stand around in the Hall." He indicated towards the lounge and headed that way calling over his shoulder in a casual manner that belied the tension. "Why don't you make some coffee, Emma?"

Emma looked at her brother for reassurance and he nodded at her. Perhaps it would be better for her not to be in the room right now. Emma turned towards the kitchen and Charles followed his father into the lounge and shut the door. He had no intention of letting the General lead the conversation and the moment the door was shut asked, "Why did you throw Molly out?"

"Cut to the chase, Charles, why don't you."

Charles stared at his father but said nothing. He wasn't moving or speaking again until he got an answer. The General knew it was a tactic aimed to make him uncomfortable but he was not going to be intimidated and to Charles' irritation seemed remarkably calm.

"Very well," the General began. "As you insist. You may know I returned to Bath last week because I had some business matters to deal with and a charity event to attend at the Assembly Rooms. While I was there I encountered an old acquaintance of Miss Dawes who told me a few interesting facts about her."

Charles stared at him wondering who he could be talking about.

"I don't know if you've met Miss Dawes boyfriend or to be more correct perhaps I should call him her abandoned former boyfriend, as she appears to have cast him aside when she saw a better prospect and decided to run after you."

The penny dropped. "Are you talking about Jack Thorpe?" Charles was trying not to laugh at the idea although he was also seething with indignation at the thought that Jack had told his father lies about Molly.

"So, you _do_ know him, then?"

"Yes, although we haven't been formally introduced if that's what you're asking "

"Well, as I said, I had the fortune to run into him at the charity event. He was working there and reminded me of our previous conversation at Harry's party about joining the army. From what he told me it seems as if Miss Dawes is quite skilled at lying to her employers as well as her boyfriend. The Allens were, apparently, very shocked to discover that she'd been working for a catering agency behind their backs, telling them lies about where she was going and what she was doing and all in breach of her terms of employment. By all accounts we invited her to stay here in the nick of time as she was about to be sacked. It looks as though we did the Allens a favour and saved them the job."

Charles scoffed. "Those are outright lies. Jack Thorpe was never her boyfriend, although he'd like to have been, and the Allens were _not_ going to sack her."

The General stared at him. "So you knew she was being dishonest and moonlighting in this other job."

There was no denying that he'd known about her working for Prestige Appointments.

"Yes, I knew she had a second job but I don't believe that dishonesty came into it. She simply needed to earn some extra money and from what I know of the Allens they don't strike me as the sort of people to sack someone over an issue like that. Are you honestly telling me that you've thrown her out on the basis of a couple of malicious lies from someone as untrustworthy as Jack Thorpe?"

"No," the General fixed him with a stern expression. "Not on that alone, although it might interest you to know, just as a little illustration of Miss Dawes modus operandi, that while you were away last week, your _girlfriend_ ," Charles heard the sarcasm and tried to ignore it, "Was out with your sister in Penzance getting drunk and picking up men in bars."

This news pulled Charles back a little but given his father's total antipathy towards Molly at this point he didn't think he could be entirely trusted on the subject. He was also unwilling to show his father any sign that he was bothered although he also knew that he could turn to his sister for clarification on that piece of 'news'. He chose to say nothing in response and the General continued.

"There's something else, however, in which she's been involved or perhaps I should say something else with which she's colluded that I simply cannot tolerate."

Charles couldn't imagine what would follow.

"Young Thorpe told me in the course of conversation that in his opinion Miss Dawes has a talent for spotting the main chance and she probably wormed her way into our good books deliberately. In fact, he said she must have realised she was onto a good thing the first time she saw you all in the University bar. That is, she apparently saw you, Emma and, to quote Thorpe directly, 'the tall older foreign guy' who apparently was there with Emma."

Charles could tell from his father's quiet delivery that he was furious. Emma's secret was out and in his father's eyes, to add to her other offences, Molly had colluded over Emma's relationship with Francois. It was grossly unfair to blame her and Charles immediately blamed himself for involving her.

"She did nothing. Don't hold her responsible for this. I'm the one who helped Emma so if you're throwing accusations around, then you'd better accuse me. That is what this is about isn't it?"

The lounge door opened and Emma came in carrying a tray with coffee. She had heard the raised voices and she stared anxiously at both men. No one spoke and Emma put the tray on a table and waited. The General turned to her.

"Have you been seeing this Frenchman behind my back?"

Emma blanched and her mouth dropped open. Charles could tell that their father clearly hadn't said anything to her about this information for the past couple of days and her shock at the news was obvious.

"I…I..couldn't help it. I love him, Dad."

Charles saw his sister's stricken face, heard the misery in her whispered reply and his patience snapped. He rounded on his father.

"Emma isn't staying here another day. This isn't the dark ages, Dad. She's told you time and again that she's ready to move on. She's twenty years old and it's time she started to make a life for herself with whoever she wants to be with." He could have been talking about himself as he spoke but glancing across the room he could see Emma's eyes shining with tears. He turned to her. "Go and pack your stuff. You're coming back with me. This has gone on long enough."

Emma didn't hesitate she turned and hurried upstairs and Charles looked at his father.

"You can't interfere in our lives like this. I don't care what rubbish you've been told by Thorpe. He has his own axe to grind in all of this on two counts. Firstly I suspect he's angry on his sister's behalf about the way your favourite son, Harry, used and discarded her which is something of a familiar story with him, but also because Molly rejected him and he's determined to spoil everything for her. It doesn't change anything for me because I love Molly." He glared at his father. "And you'll have to get used to the idea that Emma loves Francois. Whatever you think of him, she's made her choice and in a few months she will be independent of you and there's nothing you'll be able to do about it."

"Don't be so sure about that."

Charles stared at his father incredulously. "What else would you possibly consider doing to spoil it for Emma? You've wrapped her in cotton wool for the last few years and kept her financially dependent on you, prevented her going off to study and tried to separate her from the man she loves because he's not the perfect man you think he should be."

The General shook his head. "You don't understand, Charles."

"Then explain it to me."

There was silence. The two men stared at each other; one trying to fathom the depths of his father's mind the other unaccustomed to being asked to explain his feelings or his actions to anyone. Charles lost his patience first.

"You can't explain it, can you, Dad. Or is it that you just don't want to because it might reveal that you have failings like everyone else?"

Not even a muscle in the General's face twitched as he absorbed this rebuke.

"You've obviously made up your mind and I can't imagine anything I say would make a difference. I think this conversation is at an end. I'm going to my study. Shut the front door when you both leave."

The General turned and walked away and Charles was left exasperated, annoyed and disbelieving of his father's actions. That he should walk away and apparently wash his hands of both himself and Emma in such a cold manner was astonishing. Charles might not have always agreed with his father but he'd never had the sense before that he didn't actually care about them. He still looked shell-shocked when Emma appeared again some time later visibly anxious and clutching two large bags.

"Where's Dad?"

"Gone to his study. Come on let's go. There's no reason to stay."

Charles crossed the room to her and picked up the bags but Emma remained rooted to the spot. Even with the turmoil of her emotions in the light of her what had just passed, she felt that she couldn't just walk away.

"I've got to say goodbye, Charles. I can't just leave without a word."

He didn't try to stop her. "I'll wait in the car."

She left him and made her way to her father's study. She knocked but he didn't answer and taking a deep breath she opened the door. The General was sitting in his chair behind his desk. He didn't even turn his head as Emma entered.

"I've come to say goodbye, Dad."

He barely moved on hearing her voice.

"I'm sorry that it's come to this but I think Charles is right and it would be better if we spent some time apart. I know you only wanted the best for me but I don't think you know what that is at the moment." She paused hoping he would say something but he offered her nothing. He continued to stare ahead in silence. "I hope in time we'll be able to get past this and …" she didn't know how to continue and her voice broke.

The General turned to look at her. He spoke quietly. "I _did_ only want the best for you and I've always tried to do the right thing by you no matter what. But the truth will out, as they say. You are your mother's daughter, Emma. I just hope you're not your father's."

Emma stared at him. She heard sadness and resignation in his voice but he had already looked away again before she could read his expression. She was confused by his words and strangely bereft. This felt so final.

"Goodbye, Dad."

He nodded very slightly without looking at her and she turned and walked slowly back through the hall and out into the sunshine of early morning. Charles was sitting in the car waiting for her.

"Alright?" he asked as she got into the passenger seat.

She nodded but her head was spinning. Something was nagging at her brain. She had always sensed there was something that she didn't understand but for the first time she felt as if she glimpsed part of the answer.

X-X-X-X

"Lend me your phone, Bella."

Bella, Molly's thirteen year old sister, pulled a face and kept hold of it. "Use your own."

"I can't, I've lost it. Look, go on, just let me make a call. I won't be long."

Bella, Molly's younger sister, was another member of the family who seemed less than pleased by her return, chiefly because it meant sharing her bedroom again.

"What's it worth to me?"

"I won't thump you for being an annoying pain in the ass."

"Oh, I'm really scared, Molly," she mocked knowing it was an empty threat. They'd always squabbled but beneath it all, Bella knew Molly loved her and over the years she'd tried to look out for her.

"Alright, I'll get out and let you have the room to yourself then but let me borrow your phone for five minutes, please"

Molly had been lying on the bottom bunk in their shared bedroom, staring up at the wooden slats above her head for half an hour trying to rack her brains as to what she could do to make contact with Charles or Emma when an idea had come to her. She had gone on to Bella's laptop and searched the internet praying she would find a contact number and to her relief had succeeded. Shortly afterwards Bella had walked in wielding the phone.

Bella threw a sulky look in Molly's direction but handed over the phone. Molly started to dial but saw Bella still standing there watching her and glared at her, "Piss off for five minutes, Bella. If you want a bit of privacy then let me have some too, will you."

Bella pulled a face but left and Molly continued dialling, praying the call would be answered. There was a long pause and then the phone was picked up.

"Penrose Pottery."

"Hello, Nat. It's Molly Dawes."

"Hello, stranger, where have you been? Thought I hadn't seen you around for a few days." Nat Mortimer sounded as pleasant as ever and his voice was strangely comforting to her. Stupid as it seemed, for the first time in five days she felt as if she was a little bit closer to Emma and Charles.

"Well, that's because the General and me aren't exactly best friends and he told me leave." There didn't seem any point in denying it. She couldn't help thinking all bridges in that direction had been burnt.

"Why?"

"I don't know," Molly replied not wanting to tell him that it was probably because the General didn't think she was good enough for his son and wanted to split them up.

"That sounds par for the course with him. Nothing much surprises me but I'm sorry to hear that you've gone particularly as there was something I wanted to tell you that might be of interest to you."

Molly was curious. "Oh. What?"

As he started to speak Molly was sure she could hear a note of satisfaction in his voice.

"You remember that elderly American chap that came here to buy a painting?"

Molly dragged her mind back to last week and remembered the day after the Penzance bar episode when she had walked over to Woodston on her own.

"Yes, the man who said he'd bought a painting in New York."

"That's right," Nat confirmed. "Well, I made enquiries with an old contact of Sylvie's in London. He was surprised, knowing what Sylvie's attitude to her work had been in the later years, but he did some digging for me and it turns out that more than twenty of her paintings have been sold in the States in the last two years. From what I know of her collection at the time she died, I reckon that's pretty much all that remained. When you told me there was nothing in her studio anymore I just knew something had been going on and what's more it looks like the General's made a small fortune from the sales."

Molly was surprised and a little shocked. She was certain that Emma didn't know about this and remembering how Charles had tried to support his sister's request when she has asked to see 'The Cove at Porthcurno' on that wild stormy night which seemed like an age ago now, she was sure that Charles knew nothing either.

"Molly, are you there?"

"Yeah, sorry. I was just surprised."

"I can imagine. But don't worry, I didn't forget what you asked and I haven't said anything to Emma about it. In fact I hadn't seen her for several days, until this morning."

Molly seized on the remark. "So, she's not been over in Woodston, then?"

"No. It was only chance I saw them, today."

"Next time you see her can you give her a number, so that she can call me?" She added by way of explanation, "I lost my phone and Emma won't have this number." She was about to give him Bella's number when he interrupted.

"I would if I could, but as I said it was only chance that I saw Emma and Charles this morning. They stopped briefly up at the harbourside when I was on my way back from the cafe."

"Charles?"

Molly couldn't hide her astonishment. Why had he been there?

"That's right," Nat confirmed. "He said they were leaving. I'm sorry, I don't think I'll be able to pass on the number because from the way Charles was talking, it didn't sound like they would be back."


	20. Chapter 20

**_Well, better late than never. Sorry to keep you all waiting, it really wasn't intentional. Thank you all so much for your continued interest, for reading and all your comments. I really appreciate it._**

 **Chapter Twenty**

Emma had been silent for almost twenty minutes. She and Charles had spoken briefly as they left Woodston and then she had lapsed into a quiet world of her own. Charles had seen it before and it worried him but he knew better than to disturb her. He was desperate to ask her about the events of Friday and where Molly had gone but he knew that if he wanted to get any sense out of Emma on the matter he should wait. She was preoccupied and would speak when she was ready.

Charles reckoned they must have driven at least fifteen miles from Northanger before Emma turned her head in his direction and stunned him with a question.

"Is Dad my real father?"

Charles almost veered off the carriageway with shock.

"What?"

"It's simple enough, Charles. Do you think Dad is my real father?"

He briefly turned his head to look at her. "Of course." He couldn't imagine why she would ask such a question. "Why are you saying this?"

"Because of what he said to me as I was leaving. He said he knew I was my mother's daughter but he hoped I wasn't my father's."

Charles had to agree that it was curious but surely that wasn't what he had meant. "Perhaps it was just an off the cuff remark and he was saying he hoped you wouldn't end up like him."

"Really?" Charles heard anger in Emma's voice but didn't dare to take his eyes off the road. "You really think that our father, who has an unshakeable faith in his own opinion on almost any subject, would hope that I didn't turn out like him?"

Put like that Charles had to admit that she had a point but he couldn't handle the intensity of this conversation whilst driving.

"Are you hungry?"

"What?"

"Look, 'Em, there's a lot to talk about and I don't know about you but I've been up a long time and I'm hungry. There's a café a couple of miles up the road. Let's stop there and get some breakfast and perhaps we can talk about all of this properly."

Five minutes later they pulled into the car park of the café, went inside and ordered some coffee and food. Charles sat back in his chair and sighed. Events were starting to catch up with him and he felt weary in both body and spirit. Emma was still preoccupied by the conversation she had started in the car and there was no way they could move beyond that subject.

"Is it possible that Mum had an affair?" Emma regarded him with anxious eyes and he seriously wondered for the first time whether it was possible that his mother had not been faithful to his father during her marriage. The General had been absent for long periods during the earlier part of their marriage on tours of duty in various places in the world. His mother had spent time alone at Northanger. Then he remembered Molly's wild suspicions about his mother's death and the idea that his father had been jealous. He'd dismissed it as over the top dramatics and although he had no doubt that his mother's death had been due to natural causes he started to wonder if there was something more to all this. For the first time he looked at his sister differently, searching her face for a likeness to their father and realised that he could see their mother very clearly in Emma's eyes and the way she smiled sometimes but the paleness of her skin, the light auburn tint of her hair were not like his father or himself or Harry, come to that. It could be nonsense but it was possible. A name had come to mind but he didn't dare to suggest it. This was Emma's whole life and everything she had previously accepted as the truth in question.

"Have you got a candidate?" He tried to smile but it was deadly serious, they both knew it.

"Nat Mortimer."

The silence was palpable. Emma's thoughts confirmed his suspicions but he was reluctant to speak. If he acknowledged her suggestion it would be tantamount to agreeing with her and Emma would probably never think of her mother or father in the same way again. He shrugged. It felt cowardly to be so non-committal but it was such an important matter that he didn't want to say or do anything that could affect their family for years to come.

"It could be, couldn't it?" Emma pressed. "All the years that Nat and Mum were close and working together and you know Dad's never liked him. Well, it's more than that, he detests him. I never could understand it. Although, perhaps I could if he thought that Nat was my father."

It was true, Charles acknowledged, that Nat rubbed his father up the wrong way even though he personally saw nothing in the man to merit such a reaction. They had attributed all Emma's artistic talents to her mother but she might have more than one parent's inherited traits to draw upon and it put a new spin on their father's reasons for wishing to prevent Emma from going to Art college. Charles, and to some extent Emma, had assumed that the General was trying to protect her, fearing that she was not ready for the rigours of study and college life after all her problems during her teenage years. Was it possible that he had been resisting the inevitable route she wanted to follow because it reminded him all too painfully of his wife's past betrayal?

Charles took a deep breath and tried to focus. It wasn't just Emma's life poised on the brink of change here. It was calling into question his own relationship with his mother. Had she been a different person than the one he remembered and if she was did it or should it matter to him now?

"I don't know Emma. We'll never know unless we ask those involved. Are you really prepared for that?"

The question was left hanging as the waitress brought over their order. Emma sipped the hot coffee and stared into the distance. Charles was right. Perhaps she wasn't ready to open the large can of worms that may have been her mother's life but it didn't stop her feeling angry with the General for calling so much into question. Had he really known what he was saying in those final moments before they left Abbey House? A small part of her hoped it was just what Charles had said, an off the cuff remark that meant nothing but knowing her father it was very hard to believe.

They lapsed into silence as they ate and Charles was grateful for some mental respite. This morning had been difficult and the aftermath had thrown up something he had never suspected. However, the reason he was here in the first place was Molly and he still needed to know what had taken place last week. Seeing Emma so pensive he sought to distract her.

"I still don't know what happened on Friday, Emma. Why don't you tell me about it?"

Emma gazed across the table at him realising that his thoughts and concerns in all of this had primarily been with Molly and that in her confusion over her father's comment she had failed to appreciate that Charles was now grappling with two sets of problems.

"Sorry, you must have been worried. What did Molly say about it?"

Charles shook his head, "That's just it. She hasn't or can't say anything because I can't get hold of her and she hasn't called me apart from one brief voicemail on Friday saying Dad threw her out. I hoped when I got back last night that you'd know more but it was Dad who responded to my message."

Emma's expression hardened. "He made me give my phone to him because he didn't want Molly to contact me." She looked as if she might swear but bit her lip. She had wrongly assumed that Charles knew everything.

"How was Molly on Friday?"

Emma heard the concern in his voice but couldn't gloss over the truth. "Confused, shocked, upset, I suppose. We both were. We'd come back from a nice day out and Dad was just standing there in the hall with her bag already packed and told her she had to go because she wasn't ' _decent or honest'_. But at least she's got better manners than him. If you can believe it, she thanked him for the invitation to stay with us before he threw her out." Emma leaned across the table towards Charles. "He even made her walk all the way across to Woodston and told her to catch the bus. He didn't even ask her if she had enough money. I wish I'd thought of that at least it would have been something I could have done."

Charles listened in silence but was seething with indignation at the appalling treatment Molly had received from his father. He wished now he'd been less polite when he'd spoken to his Dad this morning. In his eyes he didn't deserve the respect he'd been given.

Charles couldn't imagine how Molly must have felt on Friday or how she might be feeling right now. The silence from her, however, worried him. It had been more than four days and she hadn't called. He wondered if she was embarrassed about what had happened or worst of all thought Charles might agree with his father. If only he could speak to her.

"Do you know where Molly was heading when she left?"

Emma sighed, "There wasn't time to ask but I overheard Joe Spargo telling Dad on Saturday that Hannah had seen Molly at the harbour and she said she was going home to London."

Charles nodded. It made sense.

"Where does she live, Emma?"

Emma's eyes widened in surprise. "Don't you know?"

Charles couldn't believe he'd never asked Molly where her family lived. Somehow it had never come into any conversation between them and it hadn't been necessary. He felt incredibly stupid at this moment. They always called each other and relied on phone contact. _Bloody technology._

"No, I don't know. We didn't talk about it. Surely, she told you something?"

"No, she didn't." Emma said in a dispirited tone of voice. "Some friends we are. Not interested enough to ask."

"There must be a way," Charles said. "Someone will know. What about the Allens?"

Emma pulled a face. "They're in the South of France somewhere and I don't know their number. I suppose Dad's got it." She paused. "What about those friends of hers, that girl, Izzy, the one that Harry was, well, you know." She rolled her eyes to emphasise the point.

Charles knew all too well what Harry was like and reckoned he wouldn't be in any hurry to contact Izzy Thorpe again of his own volition. However, there might just be a way. He waited until they had finished their meal and Emma had gone to the Ladies before pulling his phone out of his pocket. It was still fairly early but there was no time like the present.

The phone rang five times before there was an answer.

"Good morning, Harry. How would you like to redeem yourself for one of your past misdemeanours?"

X-X-X-X

"It's a job aint it?"

Dave was staring at Molly with a look of disbelief on his face. For some reason she wasn't enamoured by his news that a bloke at the Earl of Wakefield was offering cash in hand work for handing out leaflets.

"Eight hours standing outside stations handing leaflets to people trying to avoid you." Molly retorted.

"Don't complain. At least it's easy work."

"Funny how you're not first in the queue to apply."

Dave pulled a face and put a hand on his lower back. "You know I've had trouble since that accident. Doc says I can't be on my feet all day."

"Pity he didn't tell you sitting on your arse all day is bad for you an' all."

"Now look 'ere…"

Belinda stepped into the room and stood between her husband and daughter.

"Pack it in the pair of you." She looked from one to the other and shook her head. The atmosphere was becoming strained. For some reason Dave seemed to resent Molly being back at home and Molly was finding her father's bone idle attitude to life difficult to accept. It was her mother for whom she felt sorry as the daily burden of managing the household fell upon her and budgets were always stretched with so little coming in. Guilt got the better of her.

"Alright, I'll do it but only to help Mum out." She glared at her Dad and went to fetch her coat.

As she walked down the road ten minutes later in the direction of the pub she was overcome with a sense of despondency. Only a few days ago she had been thinking of the future, happily contemplating her relationship with Charles and glimpsing an opportunity to make a better life for herself but here she was back where she'd started on the way to meet another of her Dad's dodgy mates about a job that would pay less than the minimum wage and was probably not kosher anyway.

Molly couldn't help hoping that Ronnie, as her Dad had called him, would have left the pub by the time she arrived but she was not in luck. The landlord pointed out a short, bald headed, tracksuit wearing man with a penchant for overpowering aftershave and heavy gold chains. She approached warily but having identified herself as Dave's daughter found she was expected. It seemed as if her Dad had guaranteed she'd be there. The reason for his insistence soon became clear when Ronnie let slip that Dave owed him a few quid and he would let him off in exchange for help with some work, albeit at a much reduced rate. Molly almost stormed out of the pub at this news but then once again she thought of her Mum. If she didn't pay off the debt by working, her Dad would be forced to find the money from somewhere else and that would probably mean the shopping budget. Reluctantly she accepted the messenger bag, heavy with leaflets and received her instructions before being directed to a minibus parked around the corner. There were one or two other unenthusiastic looking recruits on board, obviously equally desperate to earn a few 'easy' pounds as her Dad had termed it. Molly sank back and tried to quiet the growing sense of despair within her as Ronnie climbed into the driver's seat and glanced over his shoulder at the motley band of workers.

"God help those poor commuters out there when they catch an eyeful of you lot."

He shook his head, turned the key in the ignition and pulled away.

X-X-X-X

Izzy Thorpe perched on the corner of Andy's desk in the Prestige office and turned her dazzling smile upon him. He had a soft spot for her, she'd always known it and wheedling the choice bookings out of him for the past few months had been a doddle.

"Go on, Andy, please, it's important." She leaned nearer, her blonde locks falling tantalisingly across the left side of her face. She made eye contact with him and lowering her voice said, "I'd be so grateful. You know, I'm pretty sure I can persuade Molly to come back to Bath. She was only saying the other day how much she missed it here and we've got a spare room in our house now that Jimmy's moved out. There'd be nothing to stop her."

It wasn't exactly true as she hadn't heard from Molly for several weeks but Andy didn't know that. He was was thinking about it, she could tell. She held his gaze and pouted slightly, all the time thinking that Harry James had better keep his promise about the weekend away together or he'd know the true meaning of 'bunny boiler'.

When he'd called her out of the blue this morning she'd been astonished, particularly given the silence from him after their brief fling the week after his party. She'd been angry that he'd given her the brush off and sounded off to Jack about it who seemed to have taken it to heart and had been surprisingly annoyed on her behalf. She had been touched by the fact that he cared for her so much but it had only made things more difficult because she didn't want to confess her true feelings. The problem for Izzy was that Harry had got under her skin more than most of her brief encounters and she'd been surprisingly hurt by his rejection and had even, after an all-night party when she was not quite sober, resorted to begging favours from Molly a week or two ago. It was not her usual style as the boot was normally on the other foot; it certainly had been with Jimmy. However, it looked as if it had finally paid off and Harry's sister had interceded on her behalf.

She had tried to play it a bit cool with Harry and it seemed to have worked as, after a few tentative enquiries about what she had been doing for the last couple of weeks, he'd told her he'd been incredibly busy with a new client but knew a great little place in the country to unwind after a hectic few weeks and would love some company if she fancied joining him. She'd pretended to check her diary and walked around the room for half a minute doing a little dance of joy before informing him that she thought she was free. He'd been about to ring off promising to call her with the details at the end of the week when he'd added,

"I don't suppose you know the address of your friend, Molly, in London, do you?"

For a moment Izzy had been suspicious and wondered if Harry was planning to make a move in Molly's direction next but then she remembered that Molly was, of course, staying in Cornwall.

"Can't your sister ask her?"

"Oh, er..Molly's had to go up to London. I understand her Grandmother's ill and they're all a bit worried about her. Emma's lost the piece of paper, she's a bit careless like that and she just wants to send some flowers as a surprise, you know..."

"Yeah," Izzy said still not convinced. "The problem is I don't know it. She didn't tell me."

"Really, oh, that's a shame. Are you sure she never mentioned it? I was sure you'd know...Izzy." He almost whispered her name and she felt her insides start to melt. Damn him, he really knew how to get to her. She racked her brains, fearing that he might cry off the weekend if she wasn't more helpful. A thought came to her.

"I know someone who will have her address. I could ask."

Harry chuckled, a low, sexy, intimate laugh that reminded her of the last time they had been together.

"I'd be very grateful, very grateful indeed, Izzy."

Sitting on the desk beside Andy, Izzy tried to replicate that moment hoping it would work on Prestige's hard-pressed staff co-ordinator. When talking to Harry this morning she had remembered the day Molly had signed up with Prestige. She had been sitting opposite Molly in this office as she filled out the application form and she remembered Molly asking her whether she ought to put her address in Bath or her home address in London on the form. They'd decided on her home address as she didn't want any correspondence from Prestige landing on the doormat at the Allen's' house and giving the game away. The problem now was that Andy was being difficult about telling Izzy, citing the issue of confidentiality.

"It's just that her Grandmother's very ill and I really would like to send some flowers. In fact, I could say that they were from all of us. I'm sure that would cheer Molly up and make a really good impression on her. After all, Prestige is always saying how much it cares about its staff."

"She's ex-staff, Izzy. If you remember she left at very short notice."

Izzy shrugged. "It was unfortunate but seeing as you're so short staffed now, it would be good to get someone experienced back, wouldn't it?"

He still looked unsure.

"It's ok, I'll pay for the flowers."

"Damn right you will," Andy said with feeling.

"Think of it as…recruitment." Izzy pressed on and smiled again.

Andy sat back in his chair, rolled his eyes and exhaled. Izzy really was a looker and a charmer. He really shouldn't give out Molly's address but he was having a long, tough week, he wasn't paid enough and right now the prospect of luring anyone with experience back would be welcome.

"Alright." He turned to his screen to search for Molly's record, "Just one thing, Izzy. You didn't get it from me."

X-X-X-X

"A Travelodge?" Emma said in astonishment as Charles pulled into the service area on the A36 near Warminster.

Charles grimaced. "Sorry, Emma. It's only for a night or two and it's close by. I'll find somewhere better as soon as I can."

They both knew that Emma returning to the Bath house was not an option. If Emma was going to strike out on her own she needed to free herself from her father's control and for the time being until they could get finances sorted out she would have to take advantage of her brother's generosity. He had permanent quarters in barracks but they had talked on the way back from Cornwall and he said he was going to find somewhere to rent as soon as possible.

"It's alright," Emma smiled at him. "I don't mind. Anything is fine. It's just good to be away from Northanger."

Charles booked Emma in and took her bags up to her room. It was almost noon and he was weary now. He lay down on the bed for a moment and stretched, wondering what to do next. He shut his eyes and thought about Molly, wishing more than ever that he had asked her more about herself and her family. Maybe then he wouldn't have had to rely on emotional blackmail to get his philandering brother to help him out. Not that Harry didn't owe him for that occasion five years ago when he had well and truly ruined things between Charles and Hannah. It had been one of those unspoken issues. Charles had never mentioned it to Harry, even though he had felt like knocking his block off at the time despite the fact that Hannah was just as much to blame. Harry knew full well that Hannah had confessed the truth to Charles but he had also chosen to let the matter lie. At least Harry had had the decency to acknowledge that he ought to try to make amends even if he hadn't liked Charles' proposal.

"For fuck's sake, Charles, you know I'm the restless type. Izzy Thorpe was fun for a week but she is not getting her claws into me."

Charles sighed, "With an attitude like that it's a wonder any woman wants to get within six feet of you."

"Well, I'm told I have a certain charm." Even at a distance of a hundred miles, Charles could hear the smugness in his brother's voice.

"Well, it certainly worked on Hannah Spargo, didn't it?"

There was silence for a few seconds.

"So, this is some kind of revenge for what was just a quick bunk up five years ago."

Charles tried to let it wash over him but was fighting his annoyance at this remark. Considering the trouble it had caused, hearing his brother dismiss what had happened in such a manner was distasteful but he didn't react.

"No, it's not revenge, Harry. But, as I said, this is your chance to do something, as my brother and someone I should be able to count on, to make it up to me."

There was silence again and then Charles heard Harry say in a more contrite voice, "I didn't mean to cause trouble and I don't think Hannah did either. It wasn't planned, ok, and if it helps I'm sorry."

It was very little and far too late but in the end Harry agreed to do what Charles asked although he spoiled it by adding with a laugh, "Might not be too bad. I could do with some R&R and Izzy has her good points too, as I recall."

Charles rolled his eyes but didn't comment. Harry would never change but girls like Izzy Thorpe would never stop believing it was possible.

Charles realised that he must have fallen asleep as the sound of his ring tone startled him. He opened his eyes to see Emma, sitting in a chair holding a book she had been reading and laughing at the expression on his face. He glanced at his phone; it was Harry.

"Don't thank me, Charles, but I've got the address."

Charles smiled. "I won't. What is it?"

Harry gave him the address and Charles scribbled it down.

"Good luck, little brother. You always were the lucky one."

He rang off and Charles stared at the piece of paper. Emma was watching him.

"Will you be alright here?" Charles asked.

"Of course. I'll be bored but I will definitely be alright." She smiled at him. "What are you waiting for? Go and get her."

Charles grinned back at his sister. "I don't say it very often, Emma, but I love you."

X-X-X-X

Molly bit back the urge to yell at the man in the sharp suit who had not only waved a warning hand at her as she'd tried to pass him a leaflet but muttered, "Piss off," out of the corner of his mouth as he had rushed by on his way out of Paddington Station. She had been wandering up and down for the past five hours ever since Ronnie had dropped her there, warning he'd be back to spot check during the day so she'd better not get any ideas about sloping off and dumping the leaflets in a bin somewhere. As much as she was loathe to be here, she stuck to the task in hand passing as many leaflets out as possible. The majority of people at least took them from her even if shortly afterwards she saw them deposited in the nearest litter bin. It was a rotten job but at least it wasn't raining. She had been told not to go into the station to hand out leaflets so had remained resolutely on the pavement outside the main exit. However, it was late afternoon, shortly before rush hour and her feet were killing her. If she didn't sit down for a little while she didn't know how she was going to get through the final few hours and it was likely to get very busy soon as commuters started to make their way home.

She reached into her pocket. She only had about three pounds on her that she had cadged off Bella the day before but it was at least enough to get a drink and she was parched. She shut up her bag, headed into the station and bought a bottle of water from the newsagents stall. It was daylight robbery for what was little better than tap water but it was at least cold. She saw an empty seat on the concourse, wandered over and sat down. Sod, Ronnie, if he came looking for her. She was entitled to a break.

As she took the weight off her feet she felt an aching surge in her legs followed by relief and shut her eyes for a moment, appreciating the sensation. The station announcer proclaimed the arrival of the train from Bristol Temple Meads. She paid little heed. She had been overhearing arrival and departure announcements all day and they were little more than white noise to her now. She was more tired than she realised. She hadn't been sleeping well partly because in the last few months, with the luxury of her own room, she had grown unaccustomed to the wriggling and shuffling of Bella in the bunk bed above her but also because she was anxious about everything that had happened in the last few days from the moment the General had stunned her by throwing her out to the growing fear that he had succeeded in turning Charles against her. She knew it was stupid to torture herself and the chances were that Charles was trying to contact her and wondering why on earth she didn't answer her phone, wherever that may be, but that only made her worry that he would take umbrage and give up on her. She knew that she had to get back to Bath and try to find him but she needed money and at the moment she had none. Apart from helping her mother, she had hoped that two or three days work for Ronnie might yield enough to get her back to Bath, not that she knew where she was going to go after that. She had thought of camping out on the doorstep of the Bath house or maybe catching Mrs Stephens the housekeeper, who might pass a message on for her. It was a sketchy plan and only a slight hope but worth a try.

She opened her eyes to see a steady stream of passengers from the recently arrived train crossing the concourse heading for the underground station or the exits. She ought to be out there handing them leaflets. Just her luck if Ronnie turned up now and refused to pay her the pittance she had been promised. She glanced towards the Underground entrance and was struck by the sight of a tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired young man. He had his back to her as he headed towards the steps heading down to the underground station. There was something familiar about his gait and her heart missed a beat. Surely she was being stupid and her mind was playing tricks on her. She stared and then remembered vaguely the announcement of the arrival of the Bristol Temple Meads train, the one that called at Bath.

Molly rose from her seat and started to run in the direction the man had taken as the heavy bag of leaflets banged awkwardly against her leg, causing her to trot in a lopsided fashion. He had started to descend the steps into the underground station. She hurried after him hoping he might pause or turn around so that she could be sure. She reached the top of the steps and seeing him going through the ticket barrier she opened her mouth to call out his name, hoping he would turn at the sound of her voice. The station announcer chose that moment to advise passengers, at what seemed to be full volume, that there were delays on some Circle Line trains due to engineering work on the track. She rushed down the steps heading towards the barrier and saw him in the crowd way ahead. Her heart was beating rapidly and all at once she was certain it was Charles. She reached the ticket barrier.

"Oh fuck it!"

She had no money and there was no way she could go any further. Charles had reached the platform at the end of the tunnel and turned to his right. She couldn't see him anymore. She didn't know whether to cry or scream with frustration. If only she had opened her eyes sooner. She waited for a few minutes hoping against hope that he might come back for some reason but there was no sign of him. An underground train arrived and left and with it all her hopes.

Wearily, Molly climbed the steps back to the main station concourse and reaching the top wondered briefly if she could camp out here all night in the hope that she might see him again if he returned. It was stupid, of course, but she was desperate. She sank down on a seat nearby and stared into space.

"Where the bloody hell have you been? You're supposed to be out there handing leaflets to the punters not putting your feet up in here."

Molly recognised the charming tones of Ronnie but didn't respond or look at him.

"If you want your money you better get yourself back out there, pronto. You've got three hours left and if you want a lift home you'd better get on with it."

He pointed to the exit and Molly got to her feet and headed that way without a word. She felt drained of energy.

"And buck up your attitude," Ronnie called after her. "You've got a face like a wet weekend."

Molly ignored him as she headed back out of the station at a snail's pace. She really didn't care what Ronnie said or who heard it because the moment Charles had disappeared from her sight she had realised that the only thing she cared about was finding him.


	21. Chapter 21

**_Well, trying to write this week has been like getting blood out of a stone! Sorry, everyone. Thank you all for reading and all the reviews and also your continued patience. So, where was Charles going and will Molly find him?_**

 **Chapter Twenty One**

It must be the right place. Charles looked up at the block of maisonettes within a stone's throw of Upton Park and reckoned that having put the address Harry had given him into the satnav on his phone, he must have reached his destination; Molly's home. He looked around him with surprise and a sudden newfound understanding of Molly and her world and realised how little he had known of either and with an increasing sense of embarrassment thought of how little he had asked. With all that had happened in the last few weeks it simply hadn't mattered to him but he could now see how very different their backgrounds were and appreciate how daunting everything must have initially seemed to Molly, not only working for the Allens in Bath but when she had first travelled to Northanger. The life he and his family lived was very different to this and he was now even more ashamed of his father's outrageous, high-handed behaviour towards Molly. It had been undeserved and he wondered briefly what her parents would have made of it. They might be entirely justified in giving him a mouthful of abuse about the way the General had behaved and from the few comments Molly had made about her father, he reckoned it was quite likely.

Charles took a deep breath and headed for the stairs. All the way here on the train he had been anticipating this moment, longing to see Molly but also fearing it too. Her silence for the past five days could mean that she was having second thoughts about him. After all, being verbally abused and thrown out of the house to which you had been so cordially invited only a few weeks before by the father of the man you loved, would make most people think twice. As much as none of this was his fault Charles felt the overwhelming need to apologise for what had happened to both Molly and her parents if they would listen.

He reached the first floor and walked along the landing checking the numbers until he reached the end house. Another deep breath and he knocked at the door. He waited for what seemed like an age, his heart thumping in his chest until the door opened to reveal a man of around forty dressed in jeans and a West Ham shirt, a can of beer in his left hand. The television was blaring away somewhere behind him and Charles could hear the sound of young children squabbling in what appeared to be an argument over possession of a toy.

"Mr Dawes?"

The man looked back at him suspiciously. "What's it to you?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you but I'm…"

"You're on a hiding to nothing, mate, if you're trying to sell us anything." The man looked as though he was preparing to close the front door.

"I'm not selling anything, Mr Dawes."

The man looked at him more closely: he wasn't carrying a clipboard or leaflets and he wasn't wearing a badge furthermore his manner was much too polite for him be some sort of heavy sent to extort the overdue stake money the bookie out the back of the Earl of Wakefield had put on the slate for him. Nevertheless, he knew the story of the wolf in sheep's clothing all too well.

"What d'you want, then?"

Charles was trying hard not to show how taken aback he was by the person he presumed to be Molly's father.

"I was hoping to talk to Molly. This is where Molly Dawes lives, isn't it?"

Dave Dawes narrowed his eyes and regarded the man. He was well spoken and well dressed. He wondered just how he knew his daughter.

"Might be."

"Forgive me, I should have introduced myself. I'm Charles James. Molly was staying with my family until recently."

Realisation dawned on Dave's face. Of course, he was one of the toffs Molly had stayed with in Cornwall but what on earth was he doing here?

"Is Molly at home?"

"No, mate. She's out working."

The news took Charles by surprise. He hadn't really thought what Molly might be doing now that she was back at home but the news that she already had another job was unexpected. If she was working she might be planning on staying in London for some time to come. He had no claims on her but he felt strangely disappointed by the idea that she already seemed to be moving on. Charles glanced at his watch. It was late afternoon. "Are you expecting her back soon?"

Dave looked Charles up and down. This man was certainly intent on seeing Molly for some reason.

"Hard to say."

Charles took a deep breath, this was proving hard work. "Do you know where she might be? Perhaps I could catch her when she finishes."

Dave shook his head and took a slug from the can. "No. sorry."

There was a commotion behind him, the squabbling of the children reached a crescendo of squealing and screaming and from the top of the stairs a woman's voice called down, "Dave, for god's sake sort those kids out."

"I'm busy, Belinda, come and shut 'em up yourself."

Charles heard the sound of someone running down the stairs and then a woman's face appeared over Dave's shoulder and peered at him with curiosity before hurrying into the living room. Charles heard her telling the children off and although they didn't shut up the noise at least died down.

"Could I leave a message for her?" Charles said hoping to bring Dave's attention back to the matter in hand.

"If you want."

Belinda reappeared in the hall and called out, "Was it Molly you wanted?"

Charles nodded. "That's right. I'm Charles James. Molly's been staying with my family."

Belinda smiled. "Oh, yeah. She said. Come in."

Dave looked unimpressed by the invitation but nevertheless stood to one side and Charles stepped over the threshold uncertain whether it was a good idea or he should have declined. Belinda was gesturing towards the sitting room and as he walked in Charles encountered two small children of between four and six years of age sitting in front of the television, eating crisps and still arguing with each other.

"Belt up you two," Belinda admonished.

The two children stared up at Charles as he walked in and he smiled at them eliciting nothing in response but more wide-eyed suspicious looks.

"Sit down, Charles. Do you fancy a cuppa?"

Charles was grateful for the welcome. "Thank you."

Belinda hurried out to the kitchen to put on the kettle and Dave drifted in and perched himself on the arm of the sofa."So, Molly was staying with you."

Charles was unsure whether it was a statement or question. "Well, with my sister and father mainly."

Dave nodded. "Pity they had to rush off like that."

"Pardon?" Charles wondered what he meant.

Dave noticed the frown on Charles' face. "Molly said they had to go and visit friends, sudden like."

With an inward sigh of relief, Charles realised that Molly hadn't told her parents the truth about what had happened. It didn't seem likely he was going to be hauled over the coals about his father's treatment of Molly after all.

"Yes, it was."

Charles could hear the sound of the kettle starting to heat up and Belinda appeared in the doorway. "Did Dave tell you that Molly's working?"

"Yes. What is she doing?"

Belinda pulled a face and looked in Dave's direction. "Handing out leaflets, apparently. Not that she was very keen. To be honest, she's looked pretty miserable since she got back here on Saturday. Can't be much fun after being on holiday."

"No," Charles agreed. Belinda went back into the kitchen and he heard the sound of cups being taken out of the cupboard.

"So, how did you meet our Molly?" Dave asked, his tone slightly more conversational.

"At the Assembly Rooms in Bath."

Dave frowned. "What's that? A club?"

Charles was about to answer when Belinda swept in carrying a mug of tea. Charles accepted it gratefully. In truth it had been a very long day and he'd eaten next to nothing since the early morning breakfast in Cornwall. Belinda grinned at him. "So, you're here to see Molly then."

Charles nodded and sipped the tea.

"That's nice, aint it Dave?" Belinda looked at her husband meaningfully.

"Yeah," Dave concurred unsure why he should be expressing an opinion or why Belinda was so keen to keep Charles here.

Charles sensed the awkwardness and looked around the room and wondering what to say next ventured, "Have you lived here long, Mrs Dawes?"

Belinda laughed, "Call me Belinda and yeah, we've been here since Molly's sister, Bella, was born. The council moved us here when we outgrew that flat, didn't they Dave."

"You have a good view from up here," Charles ventured looking out of the front window in the direction of Upton Park.

"Not for much longer," Dave moaned.

"Why's that?"

Belinda giggled. "West Ham's moving to the Olympic Stadium. He's gutted."

"It's not a laughing matter."

"Well your face is making me laugh," Belinda said. "Although that's true most of the time."

Dave looked offended and Charles tried to maintain a neutral expression.

Belinda glanced at the clock on the wall. "I don't suppose Molly'll be much longer, will she Dave?"

Dave shrugged and looked as if he hadn't got a clue why Belinda thought he would know and was looking to him for confirmation.

"You're welcome to wait unless you've got to rush off."

Molly had said very little of her parents but Charles was beginning to get the measure of their relationship. Molly was like her mother. He recognised both the warmth and the wit but her father was harder to fathom. Charles had gained the impression that he and employment weren't the best of friends and there seemed something more, possibly a degree of frustration in his manner. Maybe life hadn't turned out quite the way he had hoped and whereas Belinda was trying to make the best of things, Dave was still mildly annoyed.

Charles wondered if he was making the right choice but he smiled at Belinda. "That's very kind of you, Belinda. I think I'll wait."

X-X-X-X

Molly sat in the minibus driving her back to East Ham in the uncomfortable state of mind torn between total apathy and rage at all the circumstances that had placed her so close to Charles and then left her stranded at the station with Ronnie's constant unwelcome presence as he hustled and nagged at his band of workers. It was only the lack of funds that had persuaded Molly to stay. She'd had one taste of hitch-hiking and she wasn't going to try it again. Although she carried on working for the next two and a half hours, robotically handing out leaflets with a face like stone despite Ronnie telling her to lighten up, her thoughts were a million miles away, wondering where Charles had gone and how or if she would find him. She was determined, if nothing else, to go to Bath as soon as possible or even to Warminster. It must be possible to ring someone in the army who could tell her where Charles was. For a little while she felt better but then the memory of Charles walking away and being unable to reach him hit her again like a body blow. _Sodding Ronnie, sodding Dad and his stupid cash in hand jobs, sodding everyone._

It was almost half past seven by the time the minibus finally pulled up outside the Earl of Wakefield. The tired band of workers climbed out and queued up to receive their pay. Molly was at the end of the line and shuffled forward as each person was handed their cash. Finally, alone and standing before Ronnie with a face like thunder, it was her turn.

"Six thirty tomorrow morning here. Alright?"

Molly glared at him. He had to be joking. "No way."

Ronnie leaned a little closer. "Look, Molly, I'd like to say it's been a pleasure, but, frankly you've probably scared off more people than you reached. However, seeing as you're Dave's daughter and he owes me, I'll let you off. Just turn up tomorrow like a good girl and we'll forget about it. Alright?" Molly heard a hint of menace in his voice and remembered the betting debt her Dad owed. She looked at the money in Ronnie's hand, pitiful as it was, she still needed it.

"Alright, only tomorrow and that's it."

Ronnie shrugged. "Just put on a smile love. It won't kill you."

She threw him a sarcastic grin and was forced to tug the notes from between his thumb and forefinger as he annoyingly tried to keep hold of them. He laughed and she felt an overwhelming urge to deck him but forced herself to turn away and head as quickly as possible in the opposite direction. She turned the corner, slowed down and let out a long breath that was closer to a cry of anguish. One of these days she'd make her Dad do them all a favour and take responsibility for his own problems. Just one more day she told herself and she'd be heading out of here as fast as she could. All she wanted now was to go to bed and try to forget everything, if only until tomorrow.

X-X-X-X

Charles wondered just how long it would be before he had outstayed his welcome. The only reason he hadn't left after half an hour of being perched on the Dawes' sofa was his desperation to see Molly and Belinda's obvious efforts to make him welcome, although during the last hour he had started to sense that after all her many enquiries about Cornwall and what Molly had been doing whilst on holiday she was beginning to run out of topics of conversation. He soon realised from Belinda's eagerness for information that Molly had told her parents very little about what she had been doing in Bath or Cornwall and that they certainly didn't know anything about what had happened between them both. He could understand it, particularly after her abrupt departure from Northanger and the uncertainty that must have followed.

When Dave picked up his jacket and muttered that he was heading down the pub, Charles began to feel, however much he hated the idea, that he should leave too. He reached into his jacket pocket and took out a piece of paper.

"I really shouldn't trespass on your time any longer, Belinda. You've been very kind. Could you give Molly my phone number and ask her to call me."

Belinda seemed surprised. "Are you sure you won't wait?"

Charles stood up. "I should go. Could you just tell Molly…" he paused. What message should he leave? How could he make Molly understand everything that he wanted to say in just one short second hand message? "There's nothing I'd love more than to speak to her. Exactly that."

Belinda stared at him. The expression on his face spoke volumes. Dave might be fussing about in the background paying no attention but Belinda suddenly realised the reason why Charles was here and the reason he had stayed so long. Molly had only called her a couple of times in the last few weeks and been vague about what she was doing. When she'd returned without any warning a few days ago she'd looked pale, tired and on edge. She remembered now that Molly had cried when she'd hugged her. It wasn't like her to be emotional and gazing at Charles' face she realised that something was going on between them and wondered if that was the reason for Molly's sudden appearance without warning and the fact that she was definitely out of sorts.

She nodded. "Don't worry. I'll tell her that."

She took the piece of paper from Charles and put it in her pocket.

"Goodbye. It was nice to meet you." Charles smiled at Belinda and Dave and then headed for the front door.

"Likewise," Belinda called after him.

He nodded in her direction and let himself out but not before he heard Dave muttering in a loud whisper, "Why the hell did you ask him in?"

Charles had shut the front door and walked away before Belinda replied, "He's in love with our Molly."

X-X-X-X

Molly turned the corner after the first flight of steps and heard the sound of someone descending rapidly from above. It was probably some kid about to run slap bang into her and right now she was too weary to risk being sent flying. She stopped and pressed herself against the wall to allow whoever it was to pass. Although it wasn't dark outside the stairwell was dim and the security light was permanently on. The footsteps were just above her. She waited, eyes cast down, for the person to pass.

The footsteps stopped as they reached her. Molly looked up and her heart missed a beat.

"Charles!"

He was smiling, that broad open smile that lit up his eyes. He sighed in relief, "God, I thought you'd never come home."

It wasn't an illusion and her eyes weren't deceiving her. "It _was_ you. I _knew_ it was."

"What are you talking about?" Charles was obviously bemused.

The words came tumbling out. "You passed me at Paddington today and I couldn't get to you in time. I lost my phone on Saturday and I didn't know how I was going to find you again."

Everything became clear in a second: the reason there had been no response from Molly when Charles had called and left messages, the reason neither he nor Emma could reach her, the reason she hadn't called him. Charles had only to look at the expression on her face to know that everything was fine between them, more than fine. She hadn't changed her mind about him. He laughed in relief and reached for her, pulling her close and hugging her. Just to feel her in his arms and know that his father's words had had no effect on her feelings for him was all he wanted. He was still holding her when they were disturbed by the sound of more footsteps heading their way. Dave appeared, clearly heading for the pub as he had mentioned.

"Found her then," he observed.

Charles was still holding Molly when Dave passed by, pulled a face, chortled to himself and called over his shoulder, "For God's sake put her down. You don't know where she's been."

He disappeared from sight, laughing and Charles, obviously amused by the look of disgust on Molly's face at this remark, whispered in her ear, "Oh, yes I do."

X-X-X-X

"How did you get back here from Northanger Molly?"

Molly paused for thought, torn between the truth and a softer version which omitted the long, lonely night at Exeter services and the frightening encounter with Chris the following day. They were sitting in an almost deserted Italian restaurant in the High Street. The food wasn't great but both of them were hungry after a very long and stressful day more than anything else they needed somewhere quiet to sit and talk.

"I caught a bus to Truro and then got a lift some of the way and a coach from Reading."

Charles frowned, "What do you mean you got a lift?"

Molly shrugged, "I had to hitch-hike some of the way."

Charles looked angry.

"I'm sorry, " Molly began but he stopped her.

"I'm not angry with you but if my father was here he'd get a piece of my mind. You shouldn't have been put in that position."

Seeing the effect of this piece of news upon him, Molly didn't dare say tell him what had really happened. She smiled and tried to reassure him. "No harm done, I'm in one piece aren't I?"

"You should never have been treated like that. My father was totally out of order."

They had talked about the past few days and Charles had told her how, having heard her message from Friday but being unable to get hold of either her or Emma and then eventually learning from his father that Molly had been sent away, he had driven to Cornwall that morning met and talked to his father and after finding Emma as good as under house arrest had returned to Warminster with her. It was late he'd had a beer and now, with the relief of finding Molly, everything was catching up with him.

Molly had used Charles' phone to call her mum. "I don't know when I'll be back, Mum."

"That's alright, love," Belinda had said brightly, "You're a big girl now. You have a good time and we'll see you whenever." Molly could almost imagine her mother winking at her down the phone as she said this and was surprised by her conspiratorial manner but she was glad that she obviously approved of Charles.

Belinda lowered her voice a little, "You've done well for yourself. He's a bit of alright, Molly. Good on you." Molly tried not to blush and hoped Charles couldn't hear what her mother was saying but nonetheless her endorsement pleased her. Dave might not always have her best interests at heart but at least her Mum appreciated that Charles was a big improvement on all of her previous boyfriends and wished her well. She ended the call and handed the phone back to Charles.

"What have you been saying to mum? I think she wants to marry you."

Charles smiled. "She's nice, Molly. I like her a lot."

Molly rolled her eyes. "I won't ask you about Dad."

Charles was diplomatic, "I don't know him well, yet, Molly."

"Trust me, he don't improve."

Charles sighed, "Don't worry about it, Molly. If anyone has a reason to say that about their father right now it's me. The things he's said and done in the last few days make me feel ashamed of him."

"Funny, isn't it," Molly replied, "My mum's over the moon, cos you're so nice but I sort of knew that your Dad didn't approve of me. It was obvious he'd found out about us when he said I wasn't 'decent or honest' and he just didn't like it."

Charles felt awkward. The last thing he wanted was Molly to carry on thinking that she was somehow not good enough for him, at least in his father's eyes, but to tell her the real reasons his father had mentioned for throwing her out might also hurt her feelings despite being untrue. However, at least he could reassure her that they were worthless in his eyes.

"It wasn't that Molly. None of it was your fault. "

Molly looked at him with surprise wondering what would follow. "Believe me, I don't agree with anything my father said."

Molly looked worried now and Charles began to regret his decision but there was no going back. He had to tell her the truth.

"My father found out that Emma was seeing Francois and that you and I knew about it. It was Jack Thorpe. He ran into my father last week and told him about seeing us all in Bath that night in the University bar and also that you'd been moonlighting with the catering agency. In fact he told him that the Allens were going to sack you because of your dishonesty."

Molly's mouth dropped open in horror. "The little shit!"

"Quite." In spite of himself, Charles smiled and shook his head. "I make you right about him causing trouble."

"So, that's what your father meant about me not being 'honest' and 'decent'?"

Charles nodded. "It's rubbish, of course, but I'm afraid he is rather a stickler for these things. Honesty and honour go hand in hand with him. I think he'd even convinced himself that he was doing the right thing by trying to warn me off you with lurid tales." He smiled nervously, conscious that a difficult moment was approaching. He'd said nothing to Emma about the private conversation with his father but one comment had sat at the back of his mind all day refusing to budge despite the fact that he knew it must be a falsehood. "Do you know my father even told me that you and Emma were in Penzance picking up men in bars while I was away."

Molly's face fell and seeing her expression Charles felt an uncomfortable knot form in his gut. It looked as though the comment resonated with her for some reason. She took a deep breath but when she spoke he heard anger.

"I should have guessed she would have told him. She was loving it when she saw me leaving on Friday."

The penny dropped. "Do you mean Hannah?"

Molly nodded and said rapidly, "It 'aint true, you know."

Charles could tell immediately from her expression that she was telling the truth and nodded. "I thought, not." But even as he said it he could tell from Molly's eyes that she knew he had been wondering about the veracity of the report and it made him feel bad for even raising the matter.

"They, I mean, the two annoying blokes in the bar, tried to pick _us_ up and they followed us outside but I told them where to get off."

Charles started to laugh, "I bet you did."

"I wouldn't have done that, Charles. I like a night out but I wouldn't do that."

"Shh." He reached out and took her hand in his, "I believe you and in any case I can't imagine you'd take my sister with you if you were planning a night out on the pull."

Molly laughed, "Yeah, not very subtle, is it?"

He held her hand and smiled at her. Thank goodness everything was finally coming good.

Charles suddenly yawned, "I'm really sorry, Molly, but I'm exhausted." He held her gaze for a few seconds and said very quietly, "Shall we get a room somewhere?"

Molly giggled. "Thought you'd never suggest it."

The problem for Charles was that his suggestion to get a room for the night wasn't some sort of ploy to get Molly alone, not that he needed it, but he really was exhausted and although the thought of being with Molly was irresistible he feared he might fall asleep as soon as he lay down.

"I'd better warn you, Molly, I'm knackered."

"It don't matter, Charles. I'd rather have you fall asleep on me every day of the week, then be alone thinking you didn't care."

"Did you think that?"

Molly shook her head, "Not really but you wonder for a little bit don't you? I mean, for a bit I really thought your Dad hated me because I was the wrong class or something but I knew deep down you didn't care about stuff like that. It sounds daft but I sort of feel better knowing it was about the job at the Allens or because of Emma and Francois and not something else that I did although to be honest I'd started to think even before he slung me out that your Dad wasn't very keen on me because of the paintings."

Charles frowned. "What do you mean?"

Molly wondered if she should have said anything but in the circumstances, after the lies Jack Thorpe had told the General about her that he had willingly believed and the damage that had been done to his relationship with his son and daughter, what reason did she have to keep quiet now.

"I found out by accident on that day after I drank the cider at 'The Ship' and I was on my own, that your Dad had moved all the paintings from your mum's studio at Abbey House. The door up there was open and I went to have a look and the room was empty."

Charles' expression was blank. He was very surprised that Molly hadn't mentioned it but he also had no idea where this was going or how it related to the conversation. Molly bit her lip, knowing the next part would come as something of a shock

"Well, I'm sorry to tell you, 'cos Emma doesn't know this either, but your Dad's shipped them out to America and he's sold them all."


	22. Chapter 22

**_Thank you for reading and for your reviews. I really appreciate it._**

 **Chapter Twenty Two**

"We've run out of milk."

Molly shut the fridge door and looked across the kitchen to where Emma was sitting at the breakfast table tucking into a couple of pieces of toast and reading a book. She looked up.

"Sorry, I should have said. Don't worry I'll pop down to the local shop and get a couple of pints." Emma stood up and smiled. "Won't be long. I know what Charles is like until he's had a cup of coffee in the morning."

Molly grinned. "Yeah, he says he's not a fully functioning soldier."

Emma put her hands over her ears as she headed down the narrow hallway to the front door of the cottage. "I don't want to know, Molly. Too much information."

Molly laughed. "I'll put the coffee on. Would you like some?"

Emma looked over her shoulder and grimaced. "Not that Rosabaya stuff again. I'll have tea, thanks."

She opened the door and Molly heard her starting to hum to herself as she headed off down the path and into the lane.

Molly turned and put the kettle on to boil and then paused to gaze out of the kitchen window watching the birds diving in an out of the hedgerows in the small back garden of the cottage they were renting a few miles from Charles' base. It was lovely here and a very fortunate find thanks to Emma's efforts in trawling around the local agencies and winning over the agent who had just heard of a vacant and rarely available property that had come onto the rental market. Tucked away at the end of a leafy lane in a quiet little village with only a pub and a small general store, it was a wonderful little bolt hole and ideal for the three of them to share. They had moved in three weeks ago and it had been a fun and happy time.

Thinking back to how low she had felt in the days following her expulsion from Northanger by General James, Molly found it hard to believe that everything had turned out so wonderfully. From the moment she had run into Charles again in the unlikely location of the stairwell of her council block in East Ham, she had instinctively known that all the problems that had been foisted upon them by a series of unfortunate events would be overcome and so they had been, almost immediately, just by being able to talk face to face and to spend the night together. Charles had definitely, just as he had claimed, been tired that night but his spirits had certainly been revived by the liberating realisation that it was the first time he and Molly had been able to spend time together away from Northanger or the shadow of his father and when they had eventually fallen asleep in each other's arms content and happy, it was with the appreciation that they could start to forge their own future, free of the General's influence.

When Molly had woken the following morning and stretched out, luxuriating in the unfamiliar sensation of lying close to a sleeping Charles, she had caught sight of the clock on the wall stating it was already eight and suddenly gasped so loudly that she had woken him. He reached out to pull her to him.

"What's the matter?" He sounded groggy but also concerned.

"Bloody hell," Molly moaned turning to face him. "It's my sodding, Dad."

"What about your Dad?"

Charles' eyes were now fully open and focused on her worried that something was very wrong. Molly felt stupidly embarrassed recalling what she had promised to do that day and realising that it was now far too late.

"I'm sorry but I was supposed to work for this bloke. My Dad owes him and he said he'd let him off if I put in a shift again today. Same as I did yesterday. Only, I should have been there at half past six."

She bit her lip and looked anxiously at him and Charles reached out a hand to stroke her hair. "Do you want to go and work? If you need to then…"

Molly could tell he was disappointed and she shook her head. "'Course I don't want to. It's just I have to."

Charles looked serious. "You don't. What does your Dad owe?"

Molly frowned. "Knowing him, probably quite a bit."

"Ok. We'll sort it out."

And he had sorted it out. The Landlord at the Earl of Wakefield knew Ronnie's number and they had tracked him down to Charing Cross Station. Charles, much to Molly's shame, had then proceeded to settle her father's debt.

"I'll make sure the knobhead, thanks you, " Molly declared as they walked away from a grinning Ronnie, who she was sure must have inflated the debt and was definitely congratulating himself on being quids-in.

"There's no need," Charles assured her with a smile. "I didn't do it for him."

He took hold of her hand and turning to face her said, "How do you fancy moving down to Wiltshire? Emma's house hunting for somewhere suitable and I thought you might like to help her. I know the idea of moving in with your boyfriend _and_ his sister is probably not as romantic as it should be but…"

Molly stopped him mid flow and threw her arms around his neck pulling him down towards her so that she could kiss him.

"Don't be a prannet, Charles."

He kissed her back. "Is that cockney for 'yes'?"

She nodded. "You might gonna have to get used to it."

Belinda, on hearing the news of her imminent departure when Molly turned up later that day with Charles to pack her bags, had been torn between happiness for her and sadness at the thought that her eldest child was leaving again so soon.

"Do you really need to go today?"

Molly stopped packing and looked at her mother. "Well, what would you do in my shoes, Mum? This house aint big enough at the best of times and I don't think it's big enough for me and my Dad at the same time."

"Your Dad loves you, Molly. It might be hard to see beneath all the bullshit, but he does."

Molly gazed out the window. There had been a time once when things were different or had at least seemed different to her: hazy memories of sitting on her Dad's shoulders at the seaside eating an ice cream, watching cartoons on TV together with his arm around her and feeling his body shake with laughter as her head rested on his chest or the look on his face when she had brought home from school a crude crayon picture she had drawn of him. All these small memories pointed to a time when they had been closer but life and a house full of other kids had complicated matters.

"Well, maybe, Mum, but I think it would still be easier for all of us if I wasn't here all the time, don't you?"

Belinda reached out to hug her. "I'll miss you, love, but you've got to make your own way and seeing your Charles, I can't say I blame you."

Hearing Belinda call him 'your Charles' warmed Molly's heart but she also heard more than a hint of wistfulness in her mother's voice and hugged her tighter.

"Things can still change for you, Mum."

"Yeah, 'course they can." There was a forced note of enthusiasm in her voice that only emphasised her doubts but it still didn't change the fact that they both wanted to believe it.

Belinda released her and said something about needing to see to the washing but as she turned away Molly was sure she could see tears in her mother's eyes.

"I'll call. Lots. I promise."

Belinda turned a bright smile on her. "You do that, love."

She left the room leaving Molly to stare after her wondering why life had a habit of kicking some people in the guts and why everyone couldn't be as happy and fortunate as she was at this moment.

Emma had been delighted to see Molly when she and Charles had returned to Warminster that evening with the end of his forty eight hour's compassionate leave drawing to a close. She had hugged Molly as if she had been gone for a year rather than just a few days. Like Charles, she was full of apologies for her father's behaviour but Molly had stopped her almost straight away. "That's all in the past, Emma. All that matters now is getting your life sorted out the way you want it."

Emma nodded. "Yes, you're right, starting with finding somewhere to live and you'll be pleased to know that I haven't just sat here for the last two days watching TV and reading a book. I called a taxi firm and I've been out and about visiting all the local agencies and I think I might have found us just the place."

Charles had left the final decision to Molly and Emma certain that anywhere they thought suitable would be acceptable. His thoughts at this time were solely concentrated on being able to spend time with Molly and ensuring that Emma was happy. He went off to the base the following day and allowed Emma to take Molly over to see the cottage. She had been right, of course, it was perfect. Although Molly had never been a lover of the countryside, on a beautiful summer's day the two bedroom cottage at the end of a quiet leafy lane, with its front garden a blaze of colour, bees gently buzzing as they busied themselves harvesting the pollen and a multitude of butterflies sunning themselves on the pale old stone walls, looked like a picture on a postcard.

"It's gorgeous," Molly murmured as much to herself as to Emma while the Lettings Agent showed them around extoling its many virtues. By the end of half an hour the deal was struck and Emma sent Charles a text with all the details. He called into the agency before the end of the day and dealt with the formalities. Two days later they picked up the keys and moved in.

Now that three weeks had passed and the three of them were settled, the disruption and anguish that had preceded this sudden change in their domestic arrangements were almost forgotten. The only point on which Molly and Charles had reached no resolution was the issue of how to treat the news that the General had sold all of his wife's paintings without the knowledge of his children. Charles had been shocked by the information Molly had given him and immediately asked for her source. For some reason, however, the news that Nat Mortimer was behind this revelation hadn't seemed to surprise him. He had, however, agreed with Molly that it might be wise for the time being not to share this information with Emma. They both knew it would upset her and Charles felt that he should make some enquiries of his own before confronting his father if that was to be the next course of action although he had no idea what it would achieve. The paintings were his father's property and neither, Charles, Emma nor Harry, come to that, had any legal rights over what happened to them.

"Morally, however, I feel he should have asked us. They were our mother's life's work. She put her heart and soul into those paintings and to Emma, most of all, they mean so much. "

Charles and Molly were lying in bed, late one night, talking in low voices, not wanting Emma to be disturbed or catch any part of the conversation. The peace and quiet of this place, idyllic as it was, was no friend to them on a hot still night, when windows were flung open to cool the room and words might carry on the breeze.

"He wasn't happy that I knew about it. I can see that now," Molly whispered. "He must have hoped you wouldn't find out for some reason."

Charles turned his head to look at Molly. It was after midnight but in the light of the full moon flooding the room he could see every curve of her body as she lay next to him wearing only the skimpiest of vest and shorts, the covers thrown back as they tried to keep cool. She was watching him intently and once again he felt so grateful that she was here.

"Sometimes I wonder if I've ever really understood my father at all."

Charles sounded sad and Molly reached out to gently stroke his face. They had more in common than they could ever have imagined when they had first met. "Join the club."

He smiled, reached for her and pulled her close. She snuggled into him tucking her head under his chin as he wrapped his arms around her.

"What did I ever do without you?"

"Had a quiet life?"

"Too quiet for my own good."

As much as Molly loved the fact that she and Charles could now spend frequent nights together and long periods when he was off duty, it was also an unfortunate that he sometimes worked unusual hours or had to go away on exercise and it was then that Molly truly appreciated the friendship of Emma. Having a companion here at the cottage made all the difference even if she knew that the time was to be limited. Emma's progress since she had left Northanger and glimpsed a life free of her father's control had been startling. A young woman of purpose and resolve was emerging and she was making plans now that the summer was nearing an end, plans that involved her future study and career and also, with the anticipated return of Francois, her happiness.

Now as Molly gazed out of the window into the cottage garden seeing the early morning haze that promised yet another beautiful day, she appreciated once again just how fortunate she was to be here.

"Penny for them."

Charles slipped his arms around Molly's waist and hugged her as he looked over her shoulder out into the garden trying to see what was capturing her attention.

"I didn't hear you come down."

"Stealth training," he murmured and kissed her neck.

She sighed and leaned in to him. "Funny how you're not so stealthy, as you put it, when you get home late and I'm already in bed."

"That's phase two."

"Phase two?"

Molly could tell Charles was stifling a laugh as he replied, "Well, that's launching an action."

She started to giggle and he turned her around to face him. He was laughing too and now that he was facing her Molly could see that he had just climbed out of bed and was wearing nothing but his boxer shorts.

"Now speaking of launching actions…"

Molly held up her hand to him, "Emma's just gone to the shop for milk and she'll be back very soon."

He shook his head. "Bet she won't."

Molly sensed he knew what he was saying was true. "Why?"

"Because I just sent her a text asking her if she could call in at the bakers in Marsham and get some fresh croissants as a treat. It'll take her at least twenty minutes to walk there and back and that's if she doesn't stop to sketch something on the way." He turned his head towards the garden again. "And it looks like a lovely day out there."

Molly stared at him caught between laughter and outrage at his audacity in sending his poor sister out on a long errand to the next village with the ulterior motive of getting her all to himself. She understood, of course, as much as they all liked each other's company there were times when they both yearned for a little privacy. He kissed her and held her face between the palms of his hands, taking in the sight of her green eyes fixed upon him. He'd never grow tired of looking into those eyes.

"So what do you reckon?"

The corners of Molly's mouth twitched as she appeared to be thinking about this before answering, "Phase two."

They both laughed and he swept her up in his arms and carried her upstairs accompanied by many creaks and groanings from the ancient staircase before reaching the landing he headed for their bedroom and pushed the door very firmly shut with his foot.

X-X-X-X

Molly was trawling through the internet looking for a job but without much success. The last few weeks had been lovely but her conscience was still nagging her, telling her that she couldn't stay here sponging off Charles forever, however much he said he was perfectly happy with the arrangement. She needed to have her own employment and her own money and had been adamant that she didn't want to be a 'kept woman'. At first he had looked as though he might laugh when she had said this, finding the expression curiously quaint but realising how serious she was he had assured her he understood and whatever she wanted to do was fine by him. The problem was she didn't know what to do now that she living here in the middle of nowhere. The cottage was a wonderful place to spend the summer but employment opportunities were limited.

Molly sat back and sighed.

"What's up?" Emma asked, not taking her eyes from the flowers she was sketching as they sat in the small back garden of the cottage late in the afternoon.

"All these jobs are useless. They want loads of qualifications or experience I aint got or they're miles away from here and I'd never get there by bus."

Emma stopped drawing and looked at Molly. "Charles means what he says, you know. It doesn't matter to him whether you have a job."

"Well it does to me. I need some independence. You must understand that."

Emma understood only too well. She'd been longing for some freedom of her own for so long and now it was finally within her grasp. She had applied for a one year foundation arts course in Bath which was due to start in September and hoped to go on to Art school the following year. What was more, she was anticipating the return of Francois very soon. He was due to return from France by the beginning of September but Emma hadn't heard from him for more than a week. In fact, news had been very sketchy all summer and once or twice when she had drunk a glass of wine or two she had expressed a fear that something had gone wrong with his plans. When he had called her she said that he seemed distant and didn't want to talk about what was happening with his divorce.

"I don't like to pry. It's his business but I miss him so much."

Molly had given her a hug and tried to reassure her that it must be complicated, especially with a young child to consider and that he probably didn't want to burden her with the problem but at the back of her mind she couldn't help wondering if Emma's fears were not without foundation. It would be a terrible blow to her friend if the relationship floundered or Francois changed his mind. As much as she loathed the General's attitude to his daughter's relationship she couldn't help thinking that perhaps he had feared just this situation.

"Of course I understand that you want to pay your own way, " Emma assured Molly seeing that her friend was bothered by not being able to make a financial contribution. "After all, that's what I want with my studies and why we're going to see David Harris tomorrow."

David Harris, Molly had been informed that morning, was the family solicitor and a trustee of Emma's trust fund. Charles had offered to contact him on Emma's behalf and set up a meeting to discuss her financial arrangements.

"It ought to be possible to negotiate the release of funds to pay for your course and living expenses now that you're not living at home with Dad anymore," he explained. "In any case next year you'll have full control of the money. David's a reasonable man and I'm sure there'll be a way to sort this out."

Emma had been reassured by Charles' words and Molly had been pleased to hear that Emma stood a chance of finally following her dreams. She was full of hope for the future and Molly hoped that all her troubles were well and truly behind her. All that she needed now was the return of Francois to make her happiness complete.

"What sort of job do you want to do?" Emma asked. "I mean what do you think your strengths are?"

Molly giggled. "Are you interviewing me?"

Emma shrugged. "Well, it's a reasonable question. What do you think you're good at?"

Molly exhaled and looked around her trying to summon up some thoughts on the matter. "Hard to say. I get on ok with people," she paused, "apart from my Dad, your Dad, people like Jack Thorpe and a few others I could mention but won't because the language won't be pretty."

Emma giggled. "OK, I wouldn't say too much about that. What have you enjoyed doing, then?"

Molly paused for thought. She'd done a bucket load of pretty shit jobs over the last few years since leaving school. Most of them had been short-term, poorly paid, probably the wrong side of legal and certainly nothing to include on her CV. The only work she had actually enjoyed had been her time at the Allens and also some of the catering work with Prestige although not the occasions when Jack Thorpe had been making a nuisance of himself. She shrugged.

"I suppose working for the Allens was the best job I've ever had, really, and I think I was quite good at it. They never complained about anything and they were always very nice to me."

"So, how about looking for some catering work or maybe there's a job going at the pub or something, you never know. Why don't you give it a try? It would be a start," Emma urged.

Molly grinned at her. "It's good to hear you dishing out the encouragement and the advice."

"Yes, it is. Things have turned around haven't they?"

Molly nodded. "It's all gonna work out, you'll see."

"Is it?"

Molly and Emma were startled by the sound of Charles' voice. They turned to see him striding towards them. Still dressed in his combats, he had obviously come straight from work and looked hot and bothered. He ran his fingers through his hair and Molly could tell he was rattled about something.

"You're early. What's up?" She gazed at him and as he drew near he stooped to kiss the top of her head. She reached up to catch his hand and holding it fast he sat down next to her. He sighed, scratched his face in a nervous gesture and looked over to where Emma was sitting. She had set aside her sketch pad and was watching him intently.

"Is something wrong?"

Charles frowned. "You could say that."

The girls waited, wondering what he would say but neither of them willing to make a guess.

"I got a call from David Harris fifteen minutes ago. When I called him this morning he advised me that as our father is co-trustee of Emma's fund he was obliged to inform him that Emma had requested a meeting about release of funds. I explained that things were a bit difficult and he said he didn't think it would be a problem for us to meet him on our own provided we accepted that he would need to discuss it with Dad. Unfortunately, it looks as though Dad hasn't taken the news very well and David called to let me know that he's on his way here."

"To Bath?" Molly cried.

Charles shook his head. "No, not to Bath. He's coming _here_ , right now, and, from what David said, it sounds like he won't be long."

Emma looked anxious. "I don't think I want to see him, Charles, not after everything that's happened. I just don't think there's anything he could say that would change my mind about anything apart from maybe giving me Mum's paintings. He knows what they mean to me. More than ever now." She looked at him with a significance that wasn't lost upon him. They hadn't discussed the question of her parentage again, not since the journey back from Cornwall. Neither of them had been willing to venture onto that subject again but he knew that it must be weighing on her mind and the news that their father would be arriving shortly had clearly thrown her emotions into freefall. Their mother's paintings were the one certainty in her mind, something left behind to hold onto but Emma didn't know the truth about their whereabouts.

Charles threw a meaningful glance in Molly's direction and squeezed her hand seeking reassurance. She knew what he was thinking but she didn't know what the right thing to do would be and helpless for an answer almost shrugged in response trusting that Charles knew best.

Charles turned to look at his sister and took a deep breath. "Emma, there's something that I need to tell you before Dad gets here."


	23. Chapter 23

**_Thank you for reading and all your reviews. So, the General is about to arrive. Why is he on the way and what will it mean for everyone?_**

 ** _P.S. This is the penultimate Chapter…_**

 **Chapter Twenty Three**

General James pulled up outside the cottage at the end of the lane and turned off the engine of the Land Rover. He glanced to his right and took in the sight of the place. So this was the hideaway. It was small but quaint, romantic even. He gave a wry smile and shook his head at the thought. He was definitely growing soft, not that anyone who knew him would believe it possible.

It had been a long drive from Cornwall; a long, reluctant but inevitable drive. The call at lunchtime from David Harris had not been unexpected. He had realised that sooner or later Charles or Emma would make contact. It had only been a matter of time and as soon as Emma had left Northanger with Charles, a little over three weeks ago, he had realised that time was running out.

He didn't doubt that they all were expecting him. David was a decent man. He knew that Charles would have been honest about the situation with his father and David would have judged it only fair to warn Charles that the General was on his way. There would be no element of surprise today.

A curtain twitched at the front window and the General knew he had been spotted and it was time to proceed. He got out of the car, steeled himself for what he knew would be a difficult meeting, took a few deep breaths to steady himself and then walked to the front door.

X-X-X-X

"He's here," Molly announced with an anxious backward glance. Although she could see the tension in Charles' expression the main focus of her concern was Emma. The news about the fate of her mother's paintings had distressed her considerably. She had shed a few tears as she struggled to comprehend the fact that her father, as controlling and at times emotionally stifling as he had been, could have done something so utterly underhand.

"He was lying to me," she had whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. "When I asked to see the paintings, he lied to me."

Molly and Charles exchanged looks. Thinking back on that moment at Northanger when Emma's simple request had sparked an argument, Molly realised that the General hadn't actually told a lie. He had dismissed Emma's request and refused to discuss the matter but not lied. It was a strange twist to idea of honesty and honour but neither Molly nor Charles wanted to point out that the General wasn't guilty of that particular offence. Molly, fearing Emma's state of mind, mouthed at Charles, _'Meet him on your own.'_

Charles took the hint. "Why don't you let me talk to Dad when he gets here? You and Molly could go down to the pub and I'll call you afterwards."

Emma's head shot up and she regarded her brother with an expression of keen determination that Molly had never seen before. "No, Charles. I want him to look me in the eye and tell me the truth about everything."

It was hard for Charles to disagree with her on that score and he had similar feelings.

"Alright. We'll do it together."

Molly felt awkward. She didn't want to intrude on what would follow. "I'll make myself scarce."

Charles turned to look at her. "No. Please stay here. You've as much right as anyone to hear whatever he's come to say. I brought you into this and Dad owes you an apology for the way he treated you."

"Yes," Emma agreed. "As far as I'm concerned you're like a sister to me, a part of our family and I want you to stay."

Molly was touched and didn't know how to respond. She glanced at Charles and in his face she saw Emma's sentiments reflected. He reached for her hand and held it fast. "That's decided then."

Now the moment arrived, however, Molly found she was just as nervous as Emma had seemed at first. The last time she had seen the General he had been throwing her out of the house and banishing her from Northanger. She had no idea how he would react to seeing her again and wondered if he would still blame her. She could imagine him demanding that she leave and Charles becoming angry on her behalf. She felt her heart starting to thump in her chest and reverberate so loudly in her ears that she was sure the other two must be able to hear it. She glanced at the brother and sister and saw grave expressions on their faces but both seemed resolute.

There was a loud rap at the front door. Charles took a deep breath and went out into the hall. The door opened. They heard the General's voice.

"Charles."

There was no reply from Charles but footsteps echoed on the wooden floor and there was the sound of the front door being firmly shut. A second later Charles appeared in the doorway and behind him was the General. He strode into the room and looking at his daughter said curtly, "Hello Emma."

"Hello"

Emma's voice was quiet and restrained as she fought to control her emotions. The General's eyes swept around the room taking in its dimensions, the soft furnishings, some of Emma's sketches on the wall, the general signs of a comfortable and cosy existence and ended by resting on Molly who was standing near the window.

"Miss Dawes."

It was a statement rather than a greeting and Molly merely nodded in response.

"Are we _all_ to be present?" The General asked, clearly referring to Molly.

Charles was steadfast. "Yes, we are."

To Molly's surprise the General merely raised his eyebrows but said nothing more. In fact, she almost felt as though he had expected this response.

"May I sit down?"

"Will you be staying long?" Emma replied.

The General looked at her in surprise, hearing testiness in her voice and for the first time recognised a young woman of resolve.

"There are matters to discuss," he said at last. "Perhaps it would be easier if the situation was a little less formal."

Charles gestured to an armchair and Emma sat uneasily on the small sofa. Charles perched on the arm and Molly retreated a little and sat on one of the high backed chairs against the wall. As much as Charles and Emma had both said they wanted her to stay, she wasn't going to muscle her way in to the centre of the group; she knew this was very much Charles and Emma's moment.

"I suppose you wonder why I've come here?"

Charles said nothing but Molly could see that Emma was struggling to keep quiet, shifting uneasily and glancing at her brother, biting her lip until finally everything spilled over.

"How could you do something so hurtful and unkind?"

The General stared at her in genuine shock and even Charles was taken aback.

"What are you talking about, Emma?" The General responded sounding more emotional than irritated.

"You know," Emma glared at him. "And we know too. You sold Mum's paintings without telling any of us even though you knew what they meant to me, to all of us."

Molly held her breath waiting for an angry rebuttal from the General but there was silence. His eyes were cast down and his voice was quiet. "I would never have sold them if there'd been a choice but there wasn't."

"What do you mean?" Emma cried.

The General looked very uncomfortable but he forced himself to look Emma in the eye. Molly could see a look of resignation on his face and realised he had been expecting this charge to be laid at his door. There was no denial. "I needed to raise funds quickly and they were the only available source of revenue. I had no choice."

Emma was shocked. Her mouth dropped open at the idea that her father was claiming he had acted out of financial necessity. "What did you need the money for?"

There was a long pause and the General took a couple of deep breaths. He looked grave, in fact, it was more than that; he looked as if for the very first time in his life he was uncertain how to proceed. Decades of military training and experience in hostile environments had enabled him to affect a façade of control in almost any situation but at this moment surrounded by those members of his family closest to him, he was as lost as a new recruit.

"I had to replace the money that was lost from your trust fund."

Emma stared at him completely lost for words. She had never had any idea how the money in her trust fund had been managed all these years or that it might ever have been under threat or even how much money she possessed, come to that. She was dumbstruck but Charles stepped in.

"You're saying that the money from Emma's trust fund was 'lost'. How exactly?"

The General actually appeared to wring his hands. He had never been more ill at ease but he tried to meet his son's gaze. "As trustees, myself and David Harris have been responsible for managing the funds until Emma reaches the designated age to take care of her own affairs. Had it not been for her ill-health, I suppose that would have happened at least two years ago but in the light of everything it was agreed that we would retain control until she was twenty one. As trustees we are responsible for the management and, if appropriate, the investment of the funds." He paused. "There's no point beating about the bush on this. A few years ago we made a poor decision and invested a significant sum of capital, as it turned out, rather unwisely. All seemed well for a couple of years and then due to forces beyond our control the bottom fell out of the market, the share price sank and to cut a long story short, much of the capital was lost."

Emma was still trying to comprehend the enormity of his confession and what in the meant in the context of everything that had happened in the last few years. She suddenly seized upon a thought, "Is that why you wouldn't let me have any funds for Art College and why you kept telling me I wasn't ready to leave home and why you just wouldn't let me live my own life? Were you making me suffer to hide your own mistakes?"

The General coloured and shook his head. "It wasn't intentional but there were no funds to pay for it. All I wanted was some time to replace the money and in the light of the problems you had experienced, it seemed sensible to postpone handing over control for several years. I never wanted to stop you doing anything I just needed some time."

"So you sold Mum's paintings, in secret, and hoped no one would find out." Emma cried. It was a stark statement of the truth as it appeared to her. The General was silent. Charles had been listening intently to the exchange and at this point, recalling recent events, his anger peaked.

"But Molly knew they were gone from Mum's studio, didn't she? That's the real reason you wanted rid of her, wasn't it? All the other nonsense you got from Jack Thorpe was just useful to hide the truth. You were afraid Molly would tell Emma and expose you so you threw her out without any thoughts for her welfare or what might happen."

The General looked across the room in Molly's direction, "I apologise, Molly, for my rudeness and lack of consideration. I very much regret the way I behaved."

It was a stiff and formal apology and Charles looked far from satisfied. "It's fine to regret not behaving like a gentleman but you don't sound sorry that you made Molly leave."

The General regarded his son. "Unfortunately, the fact remains that an agent contacted me in Bath asking me about the paintings having heard they were on the open market and offering to sell them for me. That was my business, our family's business, and he got that information from someone."

Charles shook his head. "Not from Molly. If you're looking for the culprit it was Nat Mortimer."

The General nodded slowly. "I should have guessed he'd be involved. That man has been a thorn in my side ever since he arrived in Woodston."

Emma glanced across the room at Charles and he remembered their conversation a few weeks ago. He could see the question in her eyes and wondered if she would really have the guts to raise that issue with her father and all that it might entail. Emma swallowed hard and took a deep breath, Charles could see her wavering and then he saw a spark in her eyes, a look he had seen before on his mother's face when an idea or plan had formed in her mind and she was determined to follow through.

"Why have you never liked him, Dad? Honestly, tell me why?" Another deep breath, "Was it because of me?"

The General frowned. "You?"

Emma nodded. "Don't you remember what you said to me just before I left Northanger? From where I'm sitting this feels like your final revenge for having to look at me all my life and see my mother's mistake?"

The General looked pale. He clearly did remember his parting words to his daughter now and spoke in a quiet voice. "It was wrong of me to cast aspersions. I'm sorry."

"So you _did_ mean it."

He closed his eyes and exhaled. "I don't know the truth, Emma, and I've never wanted to know the truth. I loved your mother and I've always loved you and nothing else matters."

"Then why did you say that to me? You must have realised how it would sound."

He shook his head. "I don't think I did until you'd gone. It's not easy to admit but I wasn't thinking straight. However self-pitying it may sound, I was hurt. It just slipped out."

"But you think Nat Mortimer _might_ be my father," Emma pressed on. "So you're saying that he and mum had an affair."

Molly, who knew nothing of this, listened in shock although snatches of her conversations with Nat were beginning to come back to her. He had certainly implied that he and Sylvie James were close. _She wasn't alone_ those had been his exact words when Molly had asked him about the times Sylvie had stayed on Northanger without her family. Was it actually possible that Emma was Nat's daughter? Charles glanced at Molly, saw the confused expression on her face and wished he'd had the sense to pre-warn her but he hadn't expected Emma to go ahead with this line of questioning.

The General looked devastated, finally facing up to an uncomfortable realisation but he looked Emma in the eye as he responded, "I don't know if your mother had an affair and I never asked her. That's the honest truth. All I know is that from the moment Nat Mortimer arrived he exerted an influence over her. In the beginning we only ever holidayed on Northanger together or as a family when Charles and Harry were small but he started suggesting she would benefit from spending time there alone to concentrate on her work and she listened to him. The combined workshop and gallery was all his idea. He won her over and she went along with it. After all, she was already successful, she had her own money and I couldn't stop her but I made enquiries about him. He had mounting debts and he was strapped for cash. I told her all this, we argued, but she still wanted to go ahead. He knew she'd be a draw, a much better draw than his struggling pottery. She was a romantic at heart and she fell for his talk of an artists' collective, or something like that. She had visions of being the next Newlyn School or something akin to St Ives. He persuaded her that selling her paintings privately and cutting out the middle man was a better idea than using London galleries but he didn't have her interests at heart. She even commissioned that monstrosity of a dinner service because he was short of work and he wanted to do some experimental designs. I think she did it out of pity more than anything else because she once admitted after a couple of drinks that she didn't like it very much. Nat Mortimer was good at playing on people's sympathies and he still is. You won't find a more affable chap as far as the rest of the community is concerned but that's not how it was, believe me." He paused and swallowed hard and Molly sensed that recalling the past was proving very painful for him. "The worst thing of all was when your mother died. He tried to claim there was a term in their agreement that entitled him to a share in her side of the business. In short, he wanted possession of her paintings and there was no way on God's earth I was going to let him have those. There was nothing sentimental about it. You can bet they would have been up for sale in London as fast as humanly possible. I fought it. Things got unpleasant, I don't mind admitting it, but I won, if you can call it that, after parting with a large sum in compensation and we've not spoken since." He paused and looked at Charles. "If you want verification on any of these matters you can ask David Harris he knows all the particulars."

Molly remembered Charles' words. He'd told her that his father and Nat had fallen out over the terms of the lease but from the look on Charles' face it was obvious he didn't know the rest of the story. She remembered the conversations she'd had with Nat Mortimer about Sylvie James and all the doubts that had crept into her mind as a result. Some of the General's words were ringing true. Nat had told her that the General thought him too 'commercial' as he had termed it and suggested he was hanging on Sylvie James' coat tails. He'd asked Molly more than once about the paintings and he'd prised the information out of her about the empty studio and done all the digging around to find out where the paintings had gone resulting in the agent contacting the General blowing the whole issue open wide and Molly being thrown out of the house. If the General was right then Nat Mortimer had been working to his own agenda all along.

"Were you jealous of Nat?" Emma asked very quietly.

The General stared into the distance. "Not of the man. I'd seen through him. However, I was jealous of the effect he had upon your mother but I still believe she loved me and in spite of everything I still loved her."

Emma had never heard her father talk so openly of his feelings before and it encouraged her to press on. "If you're so sure that you and mum loved each other then why do you refuse to accept that I love Francois and he loves me?"

The General gave a wry smile. In the light of his own emotional unburdening it was going to be difficult to deny Emma a response to that question but he tried to be honest. "Look at it from my point of view, Emma. My young, emotionally fragile daughter who is about to come into a large sum of money meets and has a whirlwind romance with an older man who turns out to be married and a father of a young child. Tell me honestly what you would have thought or done?"

Emma was silent. It was a stark summary of the facts and it was hard to blame a parent for thinking that way but the last year had been very difficult for her because of the General's refusal to accept the situation and Emma couldn't easily forget what she had suffered as a result.

"I'd have given him a chance, the way that Charles did. I'd have taken some time to get to know him before judging. Perhaps if you'd done that I wouldn't have had to upset you by seeing him behind your back, involving Charles and Molly or keeping my feelings secret all the time. Maybe I wouldn't have been quite so lonely and miserable if you'd only accepted that I had grown up, moved on and actually did know my own mind."

The General studied his daughter's face for a long time, recalling all the difficult years that lay behind them and wondering what the future would hold and whether he would play any part in the lives of either of his children. It was a crossroads. They were challenging his view of the world and he knew that he had to make the right decision or risk losing his family.

"I've done a lot of things wrong, I can see that now, but I did them for what I thought were the right reasons at the time. I'm truly sorry about the paintings but you were right that day on Northanger, Emma, when you said that your mother would have wanted you to have your independence. In a way with the sale of the paintings she's given you exactly that."

Emma held her father's gaze unsure what he wanted from her now or how to respond. "Are you asking me to forgive you?"

The General sighed deeply and his voice faltered slightly. "Can you?"

X-X-X-X

Emma was baking. She had been baking a lot in the last few days and it was proving difficult keeping up with the consumption of the regular flow of bread, cakes and pastries emanating from the kitchen. It was a good job, Molly reflected, that Emma was a good cook or it might have been a torture rather than a pleasure, although the chief reason for her activity was what she called 'therapy'. She needed to keep busy and active to stave off thoughts that threatened to descend into low spirits. It seemed to be working; at least Molly and Charles hoped so, although surveying the mound of fruit buns when he had returned home the previous evening Charles had remarked under his breath to Molly, "She'll have to go into business if this goes on much longer. I don't think my waistline will cope." Molly had slipped her arms around him and declared, "Don't worry I'll make sure you stay in shape."

The General's visit with his revelations and confessions had created a conflict in Emma's mind and they all knew that her current baking obsession was merely her way of trying to work though the tumult of emotions it had created. She was finding her own way through the situation and at least she seemed calm on the surface although Molly assumed that any other more turbulent emotions were being expunged via the vigorous kneading and pounding of the dough.

This afternoon seemed the same as most of the others this week. Emma had headed for the kitchen a quarter of an hour ago although Molly had persuaded her to go out for a walk with her after lunch. Molly didn't really see the point of walking for the sake of it but she was keen to get Emma out and about and Charles had asked her to try to talk to his sister while he was at work and gauge how she was feeling. Their bond had grown over the many weeks they had spent together and he felt Emma was more likely to open up to Molly than him.

"You know, I never thought I'd say this but the countryside's really beautiful isn't it?"

Emma smiled, "Yes. At least it's predictable. You can count on the seasons."

"I 'spose so but is it so bad if unexpected things happen?"

Emma stopped walking and turned to look at Molly. "I should have been suspicious when you suggested a walk. Did Charles put you up to this?"

Molly rolled her eyes. "Not the walk. Believe it or not that was all my own idea. See that was unpredictable and you didn't mind."

Emma conceded the point with an ironic laugh. "Ok but what is it you really want to talk to me about, as if I couldn't guess."

"We're worried about you, Emma. I know all this stuff with your Dad has been difficult. We just want to be sure you're ok and you're gonna carry on with all your plans and not..." Molly trailed off unsure what to say for fear of causing offence. The reality was that she and Charles were afraid that Emma might slip back into depression or worse.

They walked on a little way, crossing a small field towards a stile that led down to a brook. Emma was quiet and Molly feared she had put her foot in it but when they reached the stile Emma paused.

"Don't worry about me. I'm alright. This isn't like before if that's what you've been fearing. When mum died I felt everything from grief right through to illogical guilt. It was probably my age and it was hard growing up without her. I know that Charles and Harry were grieving too but they had other things to distract them and lives that took them away. I just felt so alone and I couldn't escape it. I suppose Dad was grieving too but he's never been good with emotional stuff partly because of the way he is but sometimes I think it's all those years in the army." She looked hastily at Molly. "Charles isn't like him in that way, don't worry."

It wasn't something that Molly feared. She knew Charles too well now to be afraid that he wasn't in touch with his emotions.

"So what have you been thinking, then? It's been a bit hard to tell what with all the baking."

Emma laughed. "Sorry. Strangely, it's just helped, more than the painting on this occasion. The truth is I've just felt so angry at everything for the past week: angry about the trust fund money, angry about the way Dad's held me back these last two or three years because of it, angry about the way he sold the paintings and angry that he couldn't accept Francois, not to mention the whole thorny issue of who my real father is. I could have screamed and shouted but it just seemed so childish and pointless. See, I have grown up."

They crossed the stile and headed down towards the tree-lined brook. A stiff breeze was blowing and the leaves rustled high above them, the sound rising and falling with the intensity of wind. They paused at the place where the path crossed the shallows with a series of stepping stones.

"Do you want to carry on?" Molly asked looking to the well-worn path ahead.

"Are we talking about the walk or me?"

"Both."

"Then the answer to both is 'yes'. I've come too far to let this stop me. I can't change what's happened but I suppose Dad was right when he said it's Mum who's setting me free. I was holding onto those paintings in my mind as a sort of talisman, like holding onto the past but it's time I got on with my own life. As for what happened or didn't happen between my mum and Nat Mortimer, I don't care and I don't want to know and as far as anything else is concerned only time will tell but I'm not looking back any more."

They carried on the walk for another mile or so before returning to the cottage and the conversation flowed easily as they discussed all manner of mundane and trivial matters and shared jokes and anecdotes. Molly was sure that her friend was on the right road and glad that she could reassure Charles when he returned that he needn't worry although as they opened the front door Emma turned to Molly with a slightly embarrassed look declaring, "Don't worry but I am going back to the kitchen now because, believe it or not, I've seen a recipe I really want to try out and I do actually quite enjoy baking."

Molly laughed and went to put the kettle on to make tea for them both whilst Emma set about gathering ingredients together. Fifteen minutes later Molly was sitting at the far end of the kitchen table enjoying her mug of tea laughing at the ferocity with which Emma was pounding away at the dough on the table.

"I think I might have to take this up."

"Oh, it's better than medication, believe me," Emma joked.

There was a knock at the door, a loud rap that made both the girls jump

"Can you get that Molly?" Emma's hands were covered in flour as well as half her face.

Molly headed for the door just as her phone started to ring in her pocket. Heading along the hall to the front door she took it out and glanced at the screen.

"Hi Mum, hold on a minute, will you."

Molly had reached the front door and pulled it open to reveal the tall figure of a man, silhouetted against the bright sunlight behind him. Molly stared at him, he looked familiar but she couldn't quite place him.

"Excuse me, is Emma James here?"

Molly heard the slight accent in his voice and recognition dawned. She turned her head to call over her shoulder to Emma, but there was no need. Emma was standing in the kitchen doorway, rooted to the spot and Molly could see tears of happiness already starting to roll down her face, leaving streaks on her flour dusted cheeks. She was smiling in total disbelief and Molly had no need to say anything. She stepped to one side and could hardly contain her own delight as Francois caught sight of Emma. She waited only long enough to see him reach Emma and sweep her up into his arms before stepping outside and closing the front door behind her. Emma had waited a long time for this reunion and if anyone deserved happiness and a moment of privacy, she did.

Molly suddenly remembered her mother and put the phone up to her ear. "Sorry, got a bit distracted. What were you saying, Mum?" She listened to the message her mother relayed with astonishment and delight and was still sitting on the cottage wall in the late afternoon sunshine fifteen minutes later when Charles arrived home. He stooped to kiss her.

"What's this? A reception committee?"

Molly grinned at him. "Are you complaining?"

He kissed her again. "Definitely not."

"Good. How do you fancy a drink at the pub?"

Charles was surprised. It wasn't their usual habit but he didn't mind the suggestion on such a nice evening.

"Ok. I'll just get changed." He started to make for the front door.

Molly caught his hand and stopped him. "No, don't do that."

"Why?"

"I think you might disturb your sister and you owe her, big time."

Molly could tell Charles was baffled by her behaviour so she enlightened him. "Francois's here and from the looks of things everything's good. Let's give them some space. Anyway, turns out I might have a reason to have a celebratory drink myself."

Charles realised it was clearly an evening for surprises. The news that Francois had arrived and Molly seemed to think all was well, was heartening. She was right, of course, Emma deserved to be happy and he wasn't going to blunder in and spoil such a precious moment when she had waited so long. It reminded him once again of just how fortunate he was. He moved in close and wrapped his arms around Molly.

"So, what are you celebrating?"

She grinned at him. "I think I might have just got myself a job."


	24. Chapter 24

**_Well, it's the end of the story and the final chapter. This has probably turned out to be at least twice as long as the original Northanger Abbey, so thank you for your patience and perseverance in reading for the last few months and for all your encouragement and kind reviews. It has been very enjoyable writing this story and it has kept me out of mischief for a while but I probably need to catch up with a few things I've been putting to one side for far too long. Thanks again everyone, I've really appreciated your interest and support._**

 ** _Here's to the new series of Our Girl. I'm sure it will be every bit as good as the last one and will keep the fanfic writers busy for another few years! Thanks for the inspiration Tony Grounds, we really appreciate it too!_**

 **Chapter Twenty Four**

"They're already here," Molly giggled as she crossed the terrace hand in hand with Charles. She hadn't intended to be late but the urge to have a long lie-in had been too great. Weekends were precious especially the weekends when Charles was at home with her and the urge to have a lie-in with him had been even greater. The last ten months had been the busiest of her life, a constant hive of activity and yet, conversely, they had also been the most settled and happy too. She felt as if she had found her place in the world

"Blame the late arrival on traffic, "Charles muttered through a gritted smile and Molly giggled again.

"You can try that if you want but they won't believe it."

Charles looked down at her, shook his head a little, knowing she was right and squeezed her hand, "Ok, I'll keep a dignified silence, then."

Charles didn't blame Molly for making them late. She was up and out of the house at the crack of dawn every morning and she worked hard. She'd earned a few hours extra sleep at the weekend and it was rare for both of them to have a whole uninterrupted weekend together. He'd cooked for her last night and they'd enjoyed a long leisurely meal, drunk a bottle of wine and relaxed; simple pleasures and yet all the more appreciated for that very fact.

Emma saw her brother and her friend crossing the terrace, stood and walked a few steps in their direction with a beaming smile on her face. She opened her arms to hug Molly and Charles stooped to kiss her on the cheek.

"I was wondering where you'd got to."

"Oh, you know," Charles said vaguely.

Emma allowed the remark to pass and as she turned to glance behind her she was joined by Francois. He bent to kiss Molly on both cheeks and then laughingly held out his hand to Charles. It was a regular joke between them that he didn't kiss Charles on both cheeks and Charles reached out to slap him on the arm in a friendly gesture. Francois put his arm around Emma and she gazed up at him with such a look of trust and love that Molly felt a sense of contentment wash over her. Seeing the four of them here together back at the waterside restaurant in Bathampton and so relaxed and happy, all the trials and tribulations of last summer seemed a million miles away. The last visit here with Charles and Emma on the day after Harry's party had marked the beginning of something; the spark that had ignited the slow burning flame of attraction between Molly and Charles. Now, being here again but with the added delight of Francois' presence she felt as if everything had reached its rightful conclusion.

"How's the job going, Molly?" Emma asked.

Molly grinned. "Very busy but good."

It was surprisingly good she had to admit, even though she had suffered a few moments of uncertainty during her first week. The phone call from her mother on the afternoon that Francois had come back to Emma, had caused her a moment's consternation, particularly when the name of Mike from Forefront Staff had been mentioned by Belinda. However, it soon became apparent that his only role was to relay a message from Mr and Mrs Allen.

Having had no luck in contacting Molly directly, due to the fact that she no longer had the same phone number, the Allens had eventually tracked her down via the agency from whom she had been hired. They had left a number to be passed on to her mother and had asked that Molly contact them as soon as possible. At first she had been hesitant wondering if they were planning on asking her back to work for them in Bath. As much as she had enjoyed working for them she was reluctant to be too close to Jack Thorpe who she suspected would still be pretty annoyed with her and a live-in job in central Bath was out of the question now that she and Charles were happily living under the same roof in their idyllic cottage.

However, it soon became apparent that this was not the plan at all.

"Heavens no, Molly, dear," Mrs Allen had gushed as soon as Molly had pre-empted the likelihood of that suggestion by saying that she didn't think she could come back to work for them.

"Brian and I won't be back in Bath before next Spring at least. We usually spend the winter in Spain. The cold and damp is very bad for Brian's arthritis you know and there are some fabulous golf courses out there not to mention all our friends in the area."

Molly could imagine the endless stream of drinks parties, poker evenings, Mr Allen's afternoons at the nineteenth hole and no doubt plenty of shopping and pampering at hotel spas for Mrs Allen; everything they had done in Bath with sunshine and sangria thrown in for good measure.

"No, dear, " Mrs Allen continued. "If you remember, we've been staying with my sister out here in St Tropez and she invited a lovely family to one of her Pool Parties. Well it's a very small world indeed as it turns out as they live near Bath, so you can imagine we had plenty to talk about and then they told us how difficult it's been trying to find some good reliable help around the house and I thought of you, dear."

"Me? I'm not sure, Mrs Allen. I don't want a live-in job, no offence, but things are different now that me and Charles are together." Even though she was at the other end of the telephone and couldn't see Mrs Allen's face, Molly still felt herself blushing.

"Oh, how lovely," Mrs Allen said brightly although she also sounded as if she was very surprised but clearly trying to hide it and hastily moved the conversation along. "The job isn't live-in. They're looking for a housekeeper or 'House Manager' as they keep saying and it's quite flexible. Well, I thought of you and I couldn't help mentioning that you might be free as I knew you'd probably come back from your holiday in Cornwall by now. They're due back next week. They sounded very interested and would like to meet you."

Molly still wasn't sure. As wonderful as it was that Mrs Allen had obviously spoken so glowingly of her and tried to lend her a helping hand to find employment, her opportunities were still limited by her location.

"Where do they live, Mrs Allen? Only, I'm a bit out in the sticks at the moment."

"They live in a village called Fullerton, a little south of Bath in The Old Parsonage. I probably should have mentioned that they've got about six or seven children I think although their oldest son wasn't with them. Apparently he's very glamorous, off playing with his band at festivals or something. He's given up University and they said something about him having being offered a record deal after meeting a woman at a party who works in the music business. It's all very whirlwind and exciting…oh, and their name is Morland."

The name immediately resonated with Molly. From the description she had just heard she surmised that it must be Jimmy Morland's family. She felt slightly awkward until she recalled that not only had Izzy broken up with Jimmy and taken up with Harry after the infamous party but the last thing she had heard was that he had moved out of the shared student house and by the sounds of it had also left Bath to pursue other interests.

"They've got a daughter, about your age or a little younger called Catherine. A very sweet girl but a bit scatty," Mrs Allen continued. "To be honest with you they all sound a bit Bohemian and disorganised but lovely people. I'm sure you'd get on very well with them." She lowered her voice. "I shouldn't say this really, Molly dear, but they're a bit desperate for help and I think I might have pretty much sold them on the idea of offering you the job. Would you like their number?"

As soon as Molly had googled the location of Fullerton she remembered seeing the name on signposts from the main road. It was only three or four miles away and realising there was no time like the present she had called Mrs Morland.

Mrs Allen had not been exaggerating about the Morland family's need for assistance.

"You'd be doing us such a favour if you'd think about it," Mrs Morland breathed down the phone in a strangely languid manner that implied it was almost too much effort to speak. "Janet and Brian have spoken so highly of you and we really are a hopeless bunch. It's so exhausting trying to get the children sorted out for school every morning and Edward, my husband, is so busy running his Yurt Hire Business that he's barely got time to eat or sleep let alone help out with the family and I've got a full programme of Meditation and Yoga classes to run so as you can imagine we're run off our feet most of the time."

They had concluded by arranging a time to meet the following week to see if the arrangement would be mutually agreeable.

No sooner had Molly relayed all the details to Charles as they relaxed in the garden of the 'Ring 'o' Bells' that evening whilst Francois and Emma enjoyed some time together, then he had laughed and told her she should get a bike.

"You could easily ride over to Fullerton from here and it's all on quiet roads."

Molly pulled a face. "I don't fancy that much."

"You'll be alright. You'll just need to put some bloody effort in," he remarked thinking of the time Molly had shouted just the same at him as he was painting for the float in Cornwall. He sat back in his seat, consumed the remainder of his pint and after placing the empty glass on the table added as an afterthought, "Or you might just gonna have to learn to drive, Molly."

The meeting with Eugenia Morland the following week had gone well. Molly hadn't been entirely sure what Mrs Allen had meant by her description of 'Bohemian' but if she meant organic farm food eating, educated left-wingers with a penchant for wearing rather expensive hand-knitted sweaters then she had to agree.

"They're posh Hippies," she told Charles on her return, "Eugenia spent half an hour telling me all about the year she and her husband spent driving around Europe in a camper van looking for karma or something. I nearly asked her if that was one of their kids."

In spite of the differences between them, Molly found that she had gelled well with the Morlands. They had a relaxed attitude to life, a little too relaxed at times and although they paid her to assist with the children and domestic tasks around the house she found that they valued and trusted her ability to organise everyone and to bring a little order into the chaos just as much. Remembering Jimmy's effortless charm and style Molly surmised that he had inherited everything from his parents. They were remarkably relaxed about the fact he had thrown in University to pursue a music career and seemed entirely at ease with their daughter, Catherine's, notions of becoming an actor or, as she had mused to Molly one day, of maybe being a writer as she had some brilliant ideas for a series of time-travelling Gothic horror stories, "I just love all that creepy horror stuff, don't you?" she had gushed enthusiastically, her eyes wide with excitement at the ideas she had outlined in sweeping detail. Molly who had listened without comment whilst sorting out the wet laundry and intending to hang it out to dry in the garden, had looked her in the eye and said with complete honesty, "No. Give it a miss, Cathy, you don't know where all that stuff will lead you. I prefer a good romcom any day."

Molly had taken Charles initial advice and during the summer and early autumn, helped by a long dry spell, she found that she didn't mind the bicycle ride to Fullerton and back each day. She arrived early in the morning in time to help get the younger Morlands off to the local village primary school and was very often finished by mid-afternoon once they had returned. It was only as the weather grew colder and wetter and the mornings darker and much less inviting that Molly began to think about the benefits of being able to drive and without telling Charles started having driving lessons. It was only when her driving instructor dropped her back at the cottage late one afternoon after a lesson and Molly found that Charles was home unexpectedly early that the game was up.

"What were you going to do?" he asked in outraged laughter. "Wait until you passed your test before you told me?"

Molly nodded. "Something like that. I wanted to surprise you and show you I could be a success doing something on my own."

Charles shrugged. "You don't have to prove anything to me. I know you'll be brilliant at whatever you do. Mind you, I'd happily give you a few lessons if you want some."

Molly slowly moved towards him, trying to suppress a smile and her arms crept around his waist. "Oh, I don't think there's much more you could teach me, not now."

Charles bent his head to kiss her and murmured, "Don't be so sure. I've got a few things up my sleeve that even you don't know about."

Molly giggled. "Then you'd better enlighten me."

"My pleasure."

"Better be mine too."

Standing here on the terrace on such a gorgeous day, Molly, remembering the wonderful journey here in Charles' MGA Roadster, the top down, sun on their faces and wind rushing through their hair, couldn't help remarking with a broad grin to the others, "I drove here today." It was fortunate that she didn't see Charles exchange a mock nervous glance with Francois.

"How did she do?" Emma asked turning to Charles.

"Still got a few fingernails left."

"I'm not that bad," Molly cried. "In fact I'm taking my test in a couple of weeks."

"I'll tell you the date and time so you can stay off the roads, " Charles quipped and earned a hard stare from his sister in return. Charles looked down at Molly. He was only joking and she knew it. He'd been slightly worried about letting her loose on the MGA but she'd handled her beautifully and it had brought back memories of the lovely evening a year ago when he'd picked her up from the Allens' for Harry's party and she'd been wearing that fabulous dress. Looking down at her he couldn't help smiling as he admitted, "She's alright."

They made their way over to the table on the terrace and sat down. Molly looked over at Emma and couldn't help noticing how radiant she was. She had always been very pretty but now she was glowing and confident. Francois sat with his arm draped across the back of her chair in a protective manner, watching her as she spoke. It was always that way. He was a handsome man, a little older than Charles, a little more serious but very kind and clearly very much in love with Emma. The day he had returned from France had marked the start of an open, honest relationship between them that had gone from strength to strength.

Returning from the pub in the early evening of that day, Charles and Molly had found Francois and Emma sitting together at the kitchen table, hand in hand and deep in conversation but the serenity of Emma's expression was enough to convince both of them the moment they walked through the door that her happiness was assured.

Francois had spoken honestly of the difficulties of the divorce proceedings in France but now that everything was concluded he was intending to make his home in England although he was clear that his son, Michel, would always play a part in his life.

"I'd love to meet him, when the time is right," Emma had said.

"I want you to be friends," Francois had agreed, "And I want us to have a home together, if that's what you would like."

It wasn't difficult to guess the answer to that question and the next day they began to look for somewhere to live in Bath with the strict agreement that they would each pay their equal share.

"I'm not going to let Dad think that Francois is sponging off me. Even if it is a bit downmarket, I'd rather have that then him casting any aspersions." Emma had asserted.

It had taken a little while but eventually Emma and Francois had found a small flat that was convenient for both of them with Emma starting her Art Foundation course in the city in September and Francois returning to his architectural studies. When they moved out of the cottage a few weeks later it had been strangely quiet but also for the first time Molly and Charles felt like a real settled couple and the peace and quiet and privacy was everything that they had always wanted.

"Have you heard about Harry's party this year?" Emma asked Charles, shielding her eyes from the bright sunlight of midday. "Apparently, we're not good enough for him."

Charles rolled his eyes. "Yes, he mentioned it last time we spoke."

Charles knew that Emma was being ironic about the fact that they hadn't been invited to Harry's birthday bash this year. Harry had decided to break with tradition and instead of holding a big party in Bath had decided to take a smaller group of chosen friends and clients for a week in Las Vegas.

"It's not your normal style, brother," Charles had remarked when they had spoken a few weeks ago.

"Well, it's not entirely my idea if I'm honest," Harry had admitted. "It's Izzy, if you must know, bending my ear about doing something different."

Charles smiled to himself. When he had applied some moral blackmail and asked Harry to contact Izzy Thorpe again with a view to obtaining Molly's address he had assumed Harry would only entertain her long enough to fulfil his side of the deal. It wasn't his habit to stick with any relationship for long but he hadn't encountered the tenacity of Izzy Thorpe before. Once she had him within her sights she had no intention of letting him escape. The weekend away had only been the start. He soon found that Izzy Thorpe was not a woman to be easily let go. Whenever he managed to put a bit of distance between them citing work or other commitments for not being around, she always managed to worm her way back and Harry seemed to accept her presence in his life as inevitable. Charles had come to the conclusion that he protested too much.

"Looks like You've met your match, Harry," he remarked with a chuckle. "I think she's got your measure."

"Don't sound so pleased about it," Harry complained. "Although, I imagine you think I'm paying my dues for my past mistakes."

If the thought had crossed Charles mind he had no intention of admitting it. The trouble over Hannah Spargo seemed a very long time ago now. He wasn't sure why Harry couldn't seem to break from Izzy if that was truly his wish and he therefore concluded that he was in denial over his true feelings for her. The only uneasiness that Charles felt over the relationship was the outside chance of Jack Thorpe re-emerging in their lives. He had caused both Charles and Molly a lot of bother with his lies and interference and Charles didn't feel very well disposed towards him. However, news had filtered through to them that Jack, having graduated with a mediocre degree and not ever having had any real intention of joining the army as he had once suggested when he was trying to wind Molly up, had moved to London. He was now working in collaboration with a fellow Film Noir fan he had met online in setting up a website and blog where he would be free to spout his opinions to the world in general although he was combining it with a little catering work on the side to make ends meet. According to the second hand account they had heard, Jack had unshakeable faith in his belief of ultimate success even if his fame at present extended only as far as his bedroom door.

"Here they are," Emma cried suddenly, gazing beyond Charles and Molly with a smile on her face. They turned around to see what she was looking at and caught sight of the General approaching accompanied by a small, dark haired boy of about six years of age. The boy caught sight of them and broke into a run across the terrace. Francois reached out to catch him as he threw himself excitedly into his arms.

"Michel, this is Molly and Charles." He spoke slowly and clearly in English to his son. The boy regarded them with the hint of a smile.

"Bonjour."

"In English," his father gently admonished.

"Hello."

Molly grinned at him, "Hello, Michel. Have you had a nice time with…." She broke off and looked to Emma for assistance. She had no idea what Michel would call the General.

At that moment the General reached the table. Charles rose to greet him and they shook hands.

"Well, we saw plenty of canal boats, didn't we, Michel," the General called across to the little boy who squirmed a bit as he perched on his father's lap, not fully understanding what was being said. His father translated for him and the boy chattered away in response. Francois looked up.

"He says he liked all the bright colours and the boat with all the flowers painted on it. I don't think he believed that people really live on them."

Everyone smiled and Emma turned to her father. "Thanks for taking him up there, Dad."

The General sat down. "It was a pleasure. In fact it reminded me of when you and your brothers were small."

The General looked across the table at Molly. "How are you Molly?"

"I'm very well, thank you."

"I'm glad to hear it."

The smile on the General's face was genuine. In spite of his fears to the contrary when he had left Charles, Emma and Molly at the cottage on that summer's evening ten months before, he had managed to build bridges with his children. It hadn't happened overnight. In fact for a few weeks there had been no contact at all. He hadn't expected instant forgiveness or believed that he deserved it but then he had received a call from Emma advising him that she and Francois were moving into a flat in Bath and asking him to come over one evening for a drink. It was a small glimmer of hope and he had accepted the invitation and for the very first time had an opportunity to really talk to Francois and start the process of getting to know him. He had found him to be intelligent, pleasant and well-mannered. The evening had gone well and the following week the General had suggested dinner. They had continued like this for some time, making small steps towards an easier and happier relationship and it seemed as if they had succeeded.

The General could see a change in his daughter. She was no longer the anxious young girl he had felt the need to over-protect to her detriment. He could see a happy, confident young woman who was forging her own way in the world with great success. She had just completed her art foundation course, achieving top marks in her class, and was about to embark on a full degree course. He had no doubt that she would succeed and he also had no doubts any longer that Francois was every bit the honourable man that Emma had declared him to be and one he could respect. The arrival of Francois' son, Michel, to stay with them for a few weeks had been another opportunity for the General to show that he had made every effort to put his past mistakes behind him and change for the better. He had been happy to entertain the boy and he hadn't lied when he said it reminded him of happy times in the past when they had been a united family. What was more it promised happier times for the future.

With Charles and Molly there had been different issues to address. Charles' anger with his father had been on two counts: the deception surrounding Emma's trust fund and his treatment of Molly. Charles understood his father's reasons for trying to cover up the loss of the trust fund money even if he didn't agree that it had been the best course of action, particularly as it had affected Emma so much during the last few years. The General felt that he had failed in his duty as a parent by making such a mistake but he had compounded the issue by trying to conceal what had happened. Molly had fallen foul of him by unwittingly discovering the truth and being the means by which the information became public. When the General had confessed the truth during that meeting at the cottage last summer, Charles had felt very much that the ball was in Emma's court as to what happened next and it was she who had made the decision some weeks later to try to forgive her father. From the way everything was turning out and the happiness he could see so clearly in her expression whenever they met, he guessed that she had firmly put the past behind her and had forged a new relationship with her father.

As for Charles, his main concern had been that the General accepted and respected Molly and he hoped that in time Molly would feel the same way about his father. He hadn't been happy about the lack of a proper apology to her but the situation had been very intense that day and, with Emma's feelings so raw, he hadn't wanted to press the point although he had told Molly, "It wasn't good enough and I won't let him treat you like that even if means not keeping contact in future."

Molly had immediately told him not to be hasty. "Look, he's your Dad and I know he's made mistakes but you always got on sort of alright before this, didn't you? Don't give up on him because of me. I reckon he's going to try a bit harder in future."

She had been right. Shortly after Emma had moved to Bath, the General had called Charles and asked if he could take his son and Molly out to lunch. It was apparent from the moment he arrived that the General was just as nervous as Charles and Molly. There had been awkward small talk whilst ordering drinks and food and strange little jokes until the General cleared his throat and said hesitantly, "I think I should stop prevaricating and come to the point. I've been very unfair to you Molly and I treated you very badly that day on Northanger which I sincerely regret."

There was silence and Molly feeling embarrassed said, "Well, sorry about the snooping. I've always been nosy. I should have kept out of it."

The General shook his head. "You didn't do anything wrong. I accused you of being neither honest nor decent and _I_ was wrong. Entirely wrong."

He held out his hand. "Will you accept my apology?"

Molly gazed at the proffered hand. She knew that she would always feel slightly wary of the General but she sensed he was genuine in seeking her forgiveness. She had no wish to see Charles' relationship with his father damaged or to be the reason he couldn't patch things up in the future. She reached out and grasped his hand.

"Yes, apology accepted."

Although they didn't see the General frequently, as his relations with Emma and Francois began to improve there were increasingly occasions when they all met as a family and when they did Molly could see the General making an effort to be interested in her and striving to include her and make her feel welcome. Charles could see it too and she knew that it made him happy to see her being accepted by his father.

"You look hot, Dad, and I expect Michel's thirsty," Charles said glancing at the little boy who looked flushed after the walk up the road to see the canal boats. "I'll fetch some more drinks from the bar while you take a look at the menu." He took orders from everyone and rose to head indoors.

"I'll help you," Molly called and followed after him.

They strolled into the building. It was dark and cool after the crystal brightness of the day outside. Molly glanced back at the little family group on the terrace, laughing and sharing a joke over something.

"Bet you never thought that would be possible when you remember what happened last year," she remarked.

Charles turned to see what she was talking about and taking in the scene behind him nodded.

"Yes. Glad I'm not a betting man or I'd have lost my shirt."

"Everything's changed hasn't it?"

Charles looked down at her. It almost felt now as if there had never been a time when she hadn't been with him. She was the first thing he saw in the morning and the last thing he saw at night even if sometimes it was only in his dreams. She'd changed his world completely. He reached for her hand. "Everything's changed for the better."

Molly met and held his gaze. She'd reluctantly signed up for a job in Bath a long time ago expecting nothing more than a few months diversion from a boring, dead-end existence and yet to her complete surprise and joy she had found a different life with a man she loved. She smiled at him. "I make you right on that."

THE END


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